


A Weasley In Slytherin

by Bool1989



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Gen, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:46:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 25
Words: 32,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bool1989/pseuds/Bool1989
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suddenly felt lightheaded as the full realization of my situation overcame me. My mind had somehow been put in the body of Ronald Bilius Weasly, a fictional character in a fictional universe. And that universe just so happened to be the Harry Potter universe.</p><p>Shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Something felt different. I was laying on my back on what felt like an incredibly comfortable mattress. As I have not slept on a mattress in at least six months, this was unusual. Additionally, I usually slept on my stomach, as sleeping on my back was not as comfortable. Also, my body felt off, somehow. My legs and arms felt shorter, and my torso felt longer. Additionally, there was less flab on my midsection.  
  
I opened my eyes, and removed the covers over my head. My old room had white walls, with curtains over the windows that blocked most of the light. Even at high noon on a sunny day, my old room would have been dark. The room that greeted my eyes was bright and painted an almost eye-watering shade of orange.  
  
I squinted, my eyes actually watering from the brightness. After rubbing my eyes clear, I looked around, and gasped. Instead of what I originally thought was orange paint, every inch of the room was plastered with posters of the same seven people, all of which had red hair, wore orange robes, and had what looked like broomsticks in their hands.  
  
But the most shocking thing was that they were all _moving._ In every poster, the seven people where waving furiously. Even the people in posters that were partially covered tried to wave over or under the blocked parts of their poster. _And they were all looking at me._  
  
I did not do anything for a long moment, frozen in shock. For several minutes, I did nothing other than watching the moving pictures, the shock slowly wearing off. After what felt like hours, but was probably just 5 minutes, I realized that the people in the posters seemed to be in a holding pattern, as they never stopped waving. Which led to another realization that the people in the posters were most likely artificial renderings, not real people that were looking at me sleep.  
  
With the fear having worn off, I turned my head to look at the rest of the room. As I had noticed before, the posters were plastered on what seemed to be every inch of the room, other than the floor, which had a bright orange carpet.  
  
 _Whoever had put up those posters must be a real fan of… whatever they are_ I thought, looking at the people on the walls, and ceiling. I then looked at the floor again. _And orange._  
  
It was when I was looking around the room at the walls that I noticed the door, the one place in the room other than the floor that was not plastered in posters. On the door was a mirror, of an elliptical shape. I considered the mirror for a moment, then looked at my arm, remembering that my body still felt odd. It was not the arm I remembered.  
  
Due to medical issues, my old body had lacked muscular definition. My old arms had been as thin as sticks. My new arms, on the other hand, had muscles on them. I looked down at my body. My old body had a round midsection and stick thin legs. My new body had a flat midsection and muscular legs. My body was different. I was different.  
  
With that thought in mind, I went to the mirror to look at my reflection. The face that greeted me, was not the face I was familiar with. My old face had been round, with puffy cheekbones, a short stubby nose, dirty brown hair that was a mess most of the time, and dark blue eyes. The face in the mirror was long and thin, with thin cheekbones, a long thin nose, flaming red wavy hair, and bright blue eyes that almost glowed.  
  
It was when I was looking in the mirror that it happened. Memories. Memories flooded my brain, memories of being born to a different mother and father, memories of growing up with five older brothers, and one younger sister, memories of being poor, of not always food on the table, of having to share his things with his brothers, memories of his brothers going away to a place called Hogwarts, of not seeing his brothers for most of the year. Memories of being Ronald Bilius Weasly.  
  
“You should comb your hair, dear” the mirror said sleepily. Far from shocking me, it was familiar, welcome even. I turned away from the mirror, looking back at my room. It was no longer hostile and alien. No, now it was recognizable and homely. It was my room, the room I had lived in for that past 11 years, the room that Ron, or I actually, had plastered with posters of the Chudley Cannons, my Quidditch team.  
  
I moved to the window. Looking out, I spotted Percy, Fred and George in the garden below. They were picking up what appeared to be lumpy potatoes that had hind legs, and tossing them as far from the garden as they could. In other words, they were degnoming the garden, a common sight in Ron’s memories, or rather, my memories.  
  
I suddenly felt lightheaded as the full realization of my situation overcame me. My mind had somehow been put in the body of Ronald Bilius Weasly, a fictional character in a fictional universe. And that universe just so happened to be the Harry Potter universe.  
  
Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

>   
> _  
> This has to be a dream_ I thought. _That is the only explanation._
> 
> I put my fore finger in my mouth and bit down, hard. It hurt.
> 
> _So much for that explanation_ I scowled, wincing as I rubbed my finger relieve the pain.
> 
> _I need to think about this_ I thought as I turned away from Ron’s, er, my window. Other than my bed, my room had a small desk, and a small wardrobe. On my desk was various comic books that had moving pictures, chocolate frog cards, a deck of playing cards that were shuffling themselves, and some self-spinning tops.
> 
> I moved to the desk and pushed all of this off, then sat in my chair and looked for some parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill or two. Molly Weasley had home-schooled all of her children, mostly in reading, writing, and basic arithmetic, and had given her children the tools they needed to do homework. As such, I did not have to look for long before I found what I needed. If I had not had Ron’s memories, in particular his muscle memory, I would have had a hard time writing with a quill. As such, it took me a few moments before I got the hang of it.
> 
> Straightening out the piece of parchment, I opened the bottle of ink, and dipped the tip of the quill in it. Rubbing off the excess ink, I paused for a moment, thinking.
> 
> _How did I end up in this situation?_ I thought, writing it down. I frowned, thinking hard, then wrote: _The last thing I remember before waking up as Ron Weasley is going to sleep as my former self. As I have no clues to suggest_ why _I woke up as Ron Weasley, any speculation would be useless until I attain evidence to suggest a hypothesis._
> 
> Well, that was some weight off my shoulders. At least I didn’t have to worry as to why I had ended up as Ron Weasley. Now to the hard part.
> 
> _What should I do about this situation?_ I wrote. Twirling the quill in my fingers, I got up and started to pace around the room while thinking. It was kind of difficult to pace, as the room was very small. After a few minutes of hard thinking, I sat back down at the desk. After dipping the quill into the ink, I rubbed off the excess ink again and wrote: _There is not much I can do about the situation, as I do not know how I got into it in the first place. According to Ronald’s memories, he got his Hogwarts letter yesterday, and we will be going to Diagon Ally today to pick up school supplies. In five weeks’ time, I will be attending Hogwarts school to learn magic._
> 
> Pausing to think for a brief moment, I continued: _I have no plans or goals for the future, as all my old plans are no longer relevant. As far as anyone knows, I am eleven years old, and I cannot be trusted as an adult would be. I can no longer take care of myself, at least as far as the adults know._
> 
> My writing was interrupted by a rumbling in my stomach, and I realized that I was hungry. I put down my quill, and it was at that moment I experienced a strange form of cognitive dissonance. Part of me, the part that was strongly related to the Ron Weasley part of me, wanted to go straight down to breakfast without giving any thought that I was still in pajamas, and in no way prepared for the day.
> 
> A different part of me, the part that was strongly related to my former self, who liked to be prepared for any event that he was attending hours in advanced, who hated it when people were on time, and not early, who remembered that Molly Weasley, or Mum as I now knew her, had specifically told all of her children to be ready to go to Diagon Ally as soon as they got up, or they would have to degnome the garden before they could eat, that part of me wanted to actually put on my clothes and do everything else Mum had requested I do to prepare for the day.
> 
> As it was, my mind spent a few minutes arguing between the two aspects of itself.
> 
> In the end, it was the part that was related to my former self that won. Former me had pointed out that, logically speaking, it was better to do a little work now to avoid having to do a lot of work later. In particular, because I would still have to get prepared for the day later, which would have been added on to the work I would have to do if I had not been prepared for the day in the first place.
> 
> If I had been only Ron, I probably would have been confused.
> 
> After getting dressed for the day (which involved a simple white tee-shirt, underpants, a pair of trousers, and a simple, tacky burnt-orange over-robe that I only had to wear in public), I checked my appearance in the mirror. I wondered what the hell Ron had been thinking when he had picked the color orange for his public over-robe. Wait, I knew was he was thinking, he had thought the color look cool on his idols, the Chudley Cannons, who all had flaming red hair, so it must look cool on him.
> 
> I knew for a fact that that the Chudley Cannons had no fashion sense, and therefore the robe was utterly tacky, and that I would be mortified to be caught in public wearing it. As it was, all of Ron’s, or rather, my public over-robes were the exact same color of ugly burnt-orange. And part of Mum’s requirement that I be _prepared_ for that day meant that I had to wear over-robes.
> 
> _Sigh._
> 
>  


	3. Chapter 3

After critiquing my appearance in the mirror, I considered what else I needed. Only two things, it seemed, my Hogwarts checklist, and my money savings. My savings were easily found, as they were in a compartment of my desk. 3 Sickles, and 18 Knuts. Not a lot, but according to Ron’s memories, it was enough to buy a few meals with. Apparently, you could buy a months’ worth of food with a single Galleon. Which meant that the 5 pounds to a Galleon thing was not true, as far as I knew, because you couldn’t buy a months’ worth of food with 5 pounds.  
  
My Hogwarts checklist was under all the stuff that had been on my desk, which I had to shift through to get to it. Unfolding the crumpled parchment, I read:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY:  
  
UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (including:  
  
a. One long-sleeved collared buttoned shirt (white) per set  
  
b. One pair of trousers (black) per set  
  
c. One vest (gray) per set  
  
d. One over-robe (black) per set  
  
e. One pair of socks (gray) per set)  
  
2\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
  
3\. One pair of work shoes (black)  
  
4\. One pair of winter boots (black)  
  
5\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
  
Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags  
  
COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk Vs. 9  
 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot Vs. 23  
 _A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch Vs. 12  
 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore Vs. 8  
 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger Vs.13  
 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander Vs. 6  
 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble Vs. 3  
  
OTHER EQUIPMENT  
  
1 wand  
1 standard potions kit  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope  
1 set brass scales  
  
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad  
  
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS  
  
I frowned. The list was more detailed than I remembered, or was I remembering it incorrectly? I was not sure. It had been a long time since I had last read the first book, perhaps that was the case. I guess ether way, I felt it was irrelevant.  
  
\--  
  
“Morning, Mum” I said as I walked into the kitchen “What’s for breakfast?”  
  
Mum was working at the kitchen counter, her back to me. It looked like she was preparing a full English spread, which was eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, and tomatoes, all fried.  
  
“Full English spread” she said without turning around, confirming my suspicion “and you can eat after you help the twins degnome the garden.”  
  
“What? Why?” I asked, bewildered  
  
“If you had just dressed for the…” she said, before turning around and noticing that I was already fully dressed. Her face turned an interesting shade of pink.  
  
“Oh” Mum said in a surprised tone of voice “I’m so sorry, I did not realize…”  
  
I just raised an eyebrow. If anything, her face turned even pinker.  
  
“Well, I’m glad you actually listened to me for once” She said, partly flustered, partly proud. Mum then smiled.  
  
“Why don’t you go and tell Percy and the twins that breakfast ready?” she said as she turned back to the counter.  
  
“Okay” I said as I walked to the door. Pausing in the open door, I turned my head to Mum and said “You know, your legs must be really tired.”  
  
“What? What do you mean? Why would my legs be tired?” she blinked, thrown at my unexpected statement.  
  
“From jumping to conclusions!” I said over my back as I walked out the door.  
  
\--  
  
The Weasley garden was a large, overgrown affair, full of gnarled twisted trees, and magical plants of every persuasion. Percy was standing about halfway to the border, while the twins seemed to be farther on.  
  
“Morning, Percy.” I greeted as I walked up to him.  
  
“Good morning, Ronald” Percy replied pompously as he turned to look at me.  
  
“I see that you actually managed to listen to Mother for once.” He said, sounding mildly impressed “I do hope that you achieve the feat again in the future. Mother would be much more amenable to us all if we would just listen to her for once.”  
  
I would have thought that he was being sardonic if I hadn’t known he didn’t know the meaning of the word.  
  
“I assume by ‘we’ you actually mean ‘me’” I replied “and, really Percy, I had such high hopes for you.”  
  
Percy blinked, and asked “What do you mean?”  
  
I leaned in a conspiratorial whisper “Well, the twins and I had betting pool on whether you would do what Mum told you, and I bet ten sickles that you _wouldn’t,_ that you would actually be a rebel for once.” I sighed “You’re such a disappointment, Percy.”  
  
Percy huffed “well, maybe you shouldn’t bet on such ridiculous things.”  
  
I smiled “What can I say? I’m a sucker for long odds.”  
  
Percy raised an eyebrow “Oh really? And what make you think I would do such a thing?”  
  
“I didn’t, really!” I said, laughing “We were actually betting if you could be any more of a Mummies boy! And guess what, I won a galleon!”  
  
“Shut up!” Percy scowled.  
  
“Do mine ears deceive me?” came the sound of a twin, I was not sure which one. I turned my head to the sound of his voice, and noticed both of them standing only a few feet away.  
  
“Is ickle Ronniekins playing a cruel joke on ickle Perciekins?” said the other.  
  
“We must say, Ronny, old chap.”  
  
“We didn’t think you had it in you.”  
  
“Oh Feorge, they grow up so fast, I think I’m getting a tear in my eye!”  
  
“You said it, Gred. Pretty soon, he’ll be leaving the nest!”  
  
“Too true, Feorge, Too true.”  
  
“That’s enough!” Percy said, angry. “I thought you would know better than to get Ron involved in your betting pools, especially considering how Mother would react!”  
  
Both of the twins blinked. “Betting pool? What Betting pool?” asked one twin.  
  
“We don’t remember anything about a betting pool.” Said the other.  
  
“You don’t remember?” I asked “We bet whether Percy here could anymore of a Mother’s boy.”  
  
“Oh, that betting pool, I remember now!” Replied one twin  
  
“Refresh my memory, what were the odds?” asked the other twin  
  
“And how much do you owe us?” said the first twin.  
  
“Actually, you owe me money.” I said, smirking. “It was a thousand to one odds, so you now owe me a hundred galleons.”  
  
“Are you taking the mickey out of us?” asked the first twin, who I had figured out was Fred.  
  
“There’s no way that’s possible” said George  
  
“I mean, he already gets straight O’s!”  
  
“He’s a friggin Prefect!”  
  
“How much more of a Mummies boy could he be?”  
  
I smirked even more, and leaned in conspiratorially: “Well, you want to know how I know?”  
  
Both of them leaned forward expectantly, but before I could open my mouth, Mums voice rang out across the garden.  
  
“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!” I jerked back in surprise, then twisted around to see Mum, her face red in anger. “INSIDE, NOW!”  
  
I sighed, then said as I started walking “Well, guys, it’s been great. I hope to see you again in the afterlife.”  
  
As I walked away, I could hear the twins whispering behind me.  
  
“Wow, and I thought _we_ were good at mischief!”  
  
“And yet, Ickle Ronniekins has showed us up!”  
  
“Too true, brother! We can’t let this stand!”  
  
They continued to whisper behind my back as we walked back to the Burrow.  
  
 _Well, it’s my own fault for playing a prank on Percy in the first place._ I thought.  
  
 _Damn._


	4. Chapter 4

> “Do you know why I am angry with you?” Mum asked in a raised tone of voice.
> 
> We, meaning Mum, I, Percy, and the twins, had walked into the Burrow’s kitchen just a few moments earlier. After entering, I had noticed that Ginny was already at the table, dressed in her pajama’s. Ginny always seemed to get preferential treatment, just because she was a girl. she was already eating breakfast, and looked up from her plate as we walk in. When she spotted me, she smirked in a way that said _ooh, you are in big trouble, and I get to watch!_ I scowled at her. If anything, that made her smirk even bigger.
> 
> Mum had directed the twins and Percy to sit at the table, but they did not start eating yet, because they knew she would be cross with them if they did. She had then directed me to a certain spot in the kitchen while pulling out her wand. She waved it in a twirling pattern, and the world seemed to subtly shift around us. Everything except for me and Mum seemed to blur around us, and I realized that this must be some sort of privacy charm.
> 
> \--
> 
> I had suffered abuse as my former-self, who I had been before I had somehow become Ron Weasley. My father had a short temper, and had been sometimes harsh in the raising of his children. He had been particularly harsh on me, because I was not the child that he had wanted, a child that was strong and athletic. Instead, he had gotten a child that suffered from alcoholic-fetal-syndrome, and a host of other medical issues. It was made worst by the fact the he had to care for me after I had turned 18, when he would rather I went off and became independent.
> 
> About 6 months after I had turned 20, he had had enough, and had foisted me off on my godfather, and that had been the worst year of my life. My godfather had been physically and verbally abusive to the point where I had hated him so much I had wanted to kill him. Luckily for me, my aunt had been trained to recognized signs of abuse, and had taken me into her home so that I could get away from my beast of a godfather.
> 
> By that point, I had started to suffer from mild PTSD that triggered whenever an authority figure was angry at me. When it was triggered, my mind would just shut down and stop thinking, and I would give simple answers such as “Yes”, “No”, “I’m sorry”, “I won’t do it again”, and “I understand”, while I wait for said authority figure to finish talking about whatever they were angry about. 3 years of therapy had helped to cure some of it, but that was not the point.
> 
> The point was that I still suffered from it, and that PTSD combined with Molly Weasley’s deathgrip on Ronald Weasley’s psyche, was not a healthy mixture.
> 
> \--
> 
> “No.” I said anxiously, gripping my right hand in my left while trying not show my feelings on my face.
> 
> “I thought I had raised you better than this!” Mum yelled. “How many times have I told you and the twins not to pick on Percy?!”
> 
> “A lot” I said, gripping my hand harder.
> 
> “Then why did you do it?” She asked, glaring at me, her face red the way it usually got when she was angry.
> 
> My heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of my chest. The sound of my blood racing through my head was loud. My anxiety had morphed into pure terror in matter of seconds.
> 
> “I-I-I’m sorry.” I stuttered “I w-won’t do it again.”
> 
> “It’s not me you should be sorry to!” She yelled again “and that does not answer my question! Why did you feel the need to pick on Percy?!”
> 
> The last thing I remembered was looking down at Mum’s feet so that I did not have to look at her angry red face, my right hand in pain from being held in a deathgrip, and heart-stopping terror flooding my veins.
> 
> Then I blacked out.
> 
>  


	5. Chapter 5

When I came to, I appeared to be laying on the sofa in the living room. I could hear murmuring around me, and when I opened my eyes, I noticed that the entire family, minus Dad, was there. Mum was holding my injured hand, fussing over it.  
  
The murmuring quieted when everyone noticed that I had woken up. Everyone was silent for a moment, before Mum hesitantly spoke.  
  
“Ronald, dear.” She said “Are you alright?”  
  
I spent several moments staring at her, my own face a blank. What do you do when you suffer from a mental illness that you got from a life that may never have existed for all you know? What do you do when you have memories of trauma and abuse when said trauma and abuse happened in a different life? How do you deal with it?  
  
The part of me that was Ron wanted so much to tell his mother the truth, to offload all of his issues onto her so that he would not have to deal with it anymore. Ronald Weasley trusted his mother, he trusted her enough that he would tell her life changing truths that could have horrible consequences if unveiled.  
  
The part of me that was Bool was utterly terrified of what those consequences could be, the least of which would be everyone in the family ending up dead. That part of me knew that Mum could be trusted, but that she was also trusting, that she trusted one person who I didn’t trust, and that person was Albus Dumbledore.  
  
I didn’t know what kind of Dumbledore I was dealing with here. It could be the evil, manipulative Dumbledore who was trying to create a New Order for the Greater Good. Or it could be the kindly old man he actually presented himself as, who could make mistakes.  
  
And Dumbledore was not the only one that I was concerned about. I had no real idea how the Weasley’s would react to finding out that one of their own had somehow been fused with a 26-year-old man from a different universe, who had PTSD at that.  
  
“Ronald?” Mum asked again, interrupting my thoughts. I blinked, then realized that all of my siblings were standing closer than they had been a moment ago.  
  
“uuh” I murmured, not sure what to say. I looked around the room, seeing the concern on my siblings and mother’s faces. Maybe I could bluff my way through it?  
  
“I’m fine.” I said, as resolutely as I could.  
  
“Fine?” Mum asked incredulously, before lifting my injured hand and showing it to me. “You are most certainly _not_ fine!”  
  
“Yeah, plus you blew up like, half the kitchen!” said one of the twins.  
  
“I’ve never seen anything like it!” Said the other twin  
  
“That’s enough, you two!” said Mum, heading they off before they went on one of their tangents. She then turned to me and said “The point is, Ronald, you are obviously not _fine_.”  
  
Now that I thought about it, I noticed that everyone had scrapes and were covered in dust. Well, so much for bluffing. I didn’t speak for a long moment.  
  
“Ronald, dear.” Mum started “you do know that you can trust us, yes? We’re your family, you can always trust family.”  
  
Could I? I was not sure.  
  
“Can have a moment, please?” I asked. Mum blinked at the non-sequitur.  
  
“I just, need to organize my thoughts” I explained.  
  
“Oh! Of course, dear.” She replied “Take all the time you need.”  
  
She then turned her head to look at my siblings with a stern expression, and said “ _We_ will be in the kitchen, cleaning up.”  
  
She stood up and walked to the kitchen, gesturing at my siblings to do the same.  
  
After everyone had left, I heaved a huge sigh. I knew, that I could ether tell them the life changing truth, or a big fat lie. Each had their consequences.  
  
I frowned as I considered the problem. I really didn’t want to lie. When I had to lie, I preferred to tell short, easy to remember lies that would not matter the next day. This was different. Whatever I told them, I would probably have to take pains to remember, for a long time, and make sure that I kept the details straight. Telling them the truth would be easier, but it could also have more life threatening consequences.  
  
A thought then suddenly entered my mind, a memory of a quote from an old tv show: “The truth is usually just an excuse for a lack of imagination”. I smiled in spite of myself. I guess I would not be watching DS9 again anytime soon, but that did not mean I could not benefit from the wise words of Garak.  
  
So, what could my imagination come up with? After thinking about it, I realized that it would probably be best to tell a lie that had a kernel of the truth hidden in it.  
  
With that thought in mind, I call out “Mum? I’m ready.”  
  
“Ok dear!” she called back from the kitchen “One moment, please!”  
  
A few moments later, she walked in. sitting in her easy chair, Mum asked “Yes?”  
  
I opened my mouth and began to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

When it comes to big, complex lies, there are a few steps you have to take in order to make sure that you are not caught in it. First, you should examine what facts are assessable to the person you are lying, and make sure that you have said facts in order. Second, you should make sure that said lie fits all of the available facts, and that said facts could easily be derived from said lie in a believable way. Finally, said lie needs to be short and simple, such that you can say it in a single sentence. If you can’t say the lie in a single sentence, then it is probably not short and simple enough. This way, it is easier to remember.  
  
In this case, the lie was “I had repressed feelings of inadequacy that caused me to act out.” As this was something that was true, but not really the reason the prior events had happen, it was really more of a misdirection.   
  
\--  
  
“Do you remember yesterday, when we got our Hogwarts letters?” I asked, rubbing my forehead with my non-injured hand.  
  
She frowned, no doubt wondering where I was going with this, before nodding.  
  
“Yes” she replied “I remember you were very excited to be finally going to Hogwarts”  
  
“Do you remember what you said after the letters had arrived?” I warily asked  
  
Her frown deepen, and she replied “I sorry, Ronald, you will have to be more specific. I’m sure I said many things.”  
  
“You said something about how you hoped I would get good marks like Bill, and Charlie, and Percy.” I said, “and how you hoped that I would not end up like the twins, in detention every other weekend.”  
  
“Oh?” she asked, still frowning, trying to remember, before saying “Oh, yes, I remember, now. I truly do hope you do well in school, Ron, but what does this have to do with you behaving like you did?”  
  
I focused on hiding my surprise. The truth was that she actually had _not_ said that. But that’s the thing about memory, it was changeable and moldable. It was not always concrete. My goal had been to implant the _suggestion_ of a memory, one that was of a sentiment that she had already express multiple times before. I had not been sure if it would even work, but now that I knew that it had, I could make use of it.  
  
“I’m… getting to that.” I replied ”The truth… the truth is, I’ve always felt like I wasn’t good enough. Like I would never be as good as my brothers. And even if I was as good as them, it wouldn’t matter that much, because… because they did it first.” I had been sniffling as I spoke, as if what I had to say was painful to admit. In a way, it was. Before he had become part of me, Ronald had always repressed his feelings of inadequacy.  
  
“Oh, Ronald.” I had looked down at my feet as I had spoken, so when Mum picked me up into a big hug, I was momentarily surprised, before relaxing into the hug. “Oh, Ron. It does not matter to me, or your father, if you are good enough. We will always support you, no matter what you decide to do.”  
  
“I know, I just forget sometimes.” I said quietly. “and it is nice to hear it every now and then.”  
  
Mum loosened the hug so that she could look me in the face, and said in a kindly voice “If you’re having these kind of feelings, you should talk to us about them.”  
  
I turned my head a bit to look over her shoulder and replied quietly “You’re always busy”  
  
She huffed and said “Well you don’t have to blow up the kitchen to get my attention, you know. You could always ask me to set some time aside so that we can talk.”  
  
“I didn’t mean to blow up the kitchen, it just kind of… happened.” I said with an ashamed look on my face. “And I really am sorry for being mean to Percy. I don’t know what came over me.”  
  
Mum just sighed, and said “Well, I suppose I will let it pass this time, just don’t do it again.”  
  
I smiled and said “I promise I won’t.”


	7. Chapter 7

As we walked back into the kitchen, I noticed that all of my siblings were eating breakfast at the kitchen table. As there was no evidence that the kitchen had been blown up, I assumed that Mum had used magic to repair it. The sight of food reminded me that I was hungry, and I eagerly moved forward to get some, but Mum put her hand on my shoulder and restrained me.  
  
“Hold on, dear” She said “Let me do something about your hand first”  
  
Sighing, I sat down and held my hand up for her examination. Mum pulled out her wand and tapped it.  
  
“One of your bones has a hairline break.” She said after a moment of consideration. Turning my hand over, she frowned and said “And you’ve given yourself a big bruise and cuts. I will have to make a poultice for the bruise, but for that break and cuts…” she tapped my hand again, after which some of the pain was relieved and cuts were healed.  
  
Turning her attention away from my hand, Mum started to wave her wand in a complex pattern. A ball of water appeared over the table. A second later, it started to bubble up, steam rising from it. Mum’s herb cabinet across the kitchen opened and three bottles of herbs flew out and came to a rest next to the bubbling ball of water.  
  
The bottle’s corks flew out of them, as well as some of their contents. The herbs mixed into the ball of water and the bottles flew back to the herb cabinet. The ball spun on its vertical axis, the bubbles of steam mixing up the herbs. After a few moments, most of the water had boiled away, leaving only a damp, green mass behind.  
  
As Mum lifted my hand, the green mass flew over to it and spread itself evenly over the bruised part of my hand. With a wand wave and a quiet crack, a white bandage roll appeared in the air. At Mum’s direction, it unfurled and began to wrap itself around my hand. When my hand was fully wrapped, Mum tapped it with her wand and the bandage seemed to fuse into a firm but flexible cast.  
  
I was in quiet shock at the blatant, casual use of magic. For Ron, what Mum had just done was a common occurrence, and something that he was used to. For me, however, it was a thing of wonder, something that I had never seen before. As it was, I had stared, transfixed at the performance, such that when it was over, I was unsure what had just happened. The entire spectacle had only taken a few moments.  
  
After blinking for a few moments, I noticed that there was a plate full of food in front of me, as well as a glass of pumpkin juice. I did not hesitate. Picking up a fork, I jabbed some food on it and started stuffing my mouth.  
  
“When do you expect that we will be going to Diagon Ally, mother?” Percy asked after a few minutes of quiet eating.  
  
“Soon, Percy dear.” Mum replied, pausing in-between bites. “I still have to get Ron sorted with his school list.”  
  
“And I expect you lot to get ready to leave as soon as you are done eating, am I clear?” She asked to the wider room. Everyone gave murmurs of assent.  
  
“Mum, can I please go to Hogwarts this year? Please please please?” Ginny suddenly asked. I was not really surprised, she had been asking the same question every day since the end of the last Hogwarts year.  
  
“For the last time, Ginny, NO! You are not old enough.” Mum replied, exasperated. “I am sure that Dumbledore has told you the same in his letter.”  
  
“Dumbledore sent Ginny a letter?” I asked, surprised. “When did that happen?”  
  
“Yesterday, when your Hogwarts letters came.” Said Ginny, perking up. “I sent a letter to him asking if I could go this year!” She then visibly deflated “He said no too…”  
  
“Oh, don’t worry, Ginny!” Said Fred  
  
“Hogwarts isn’t all it’s cracked up to be!” Said George  
  
“Why, its full of nosy old teachers!”  
  
“And dusty old books!”  
  
“Soon enough they will be handing you detentions!”  
  
“And demerits!”  
  
“And depointments!”  
  
“Wait, is that a real word?”  
  
“All right, that enough you two.” Said Mum, hiding a smile. She then turned her attention to the rest of the table, and said “Ronald, if you’re finished eating, why don’t we go up and sort out your school list?”  
  
I looked down at my plate. Sometime between sitting down to eat, and Mum asking that question, the food on my plate had vanished. Frowning, I looked up at Mum’s expectant face and sighed.  
  
“Okay” I said, wiping my face and getting up. Mum also rose from her seat at the table, and together, we walked out of the kitchen.  
  
“Why don’t you go up to Bill and Charley’s room?” Mum asked, gesturing at the staircase. “I will be with you shortly.”  
  
I shrugged and nodded, then turned and started walking up the staircase. Bill and charley’s room was on the third floor of the Burrow, along with Dad’s study, and the second bathroom. Other than the master room, their room had been the largest.  
  
Across from the door, there was a large window that looked out over the front lawn. Under the window there was a big wooden dresser, that had piled on top of it various magazines, comic books, two candleholders full of melted candle wax, and a photo frame that held a photo of a very pretty brown-haired witch.  
  
To the left was a set of bunk-beds. To the right was a large wardrobe, a bookshelf, and Bill and Charley’s old trunks stack on top of each other. I guess Mum must had been in here to clean as the beds were made, and everything on the dresser was in neat stacks. Similar to my room, the walls were plastered in posters. But instead of the Chudley Cannons, they were more varying posters of the Weird Sisters, Puddlemere United, and the Gryffindor coat of arms.  
  
After looking around, I went and sat on the bottom bunk of the bunk-beds and waited for Mum to show up. I did not have to wait long, as she walked in a moment later bearing a faded red wooden box in her arms.  
  
After entering the room, Mum tapped the box with her wand, and it floated out of her arms. Its lid popped open and I saw what looked to be many different wands inside of it. The wands flowed out of the box and arranged themselves in a neat row in front of me. All in all, it looked like there was about 30 of them.  
  
“Close your eyes, hold your hand over them, and try to get a feel for which ones seem to match you the best” Mum instructed. Nodding, I did as she asked, starting from the left and holding my right hand over each one in turn. Counting each as I went, it was not until wand number 23 that I felt a tingle of… _something._ I opened my eyes and noticed that my hand was hovering over a long, battered looking wand, that had a silvery glint at its tip.  
  
“This one” I said, grasping it in my hand. Mum nodded. After putting the other wands back in the box, she held out her hand expectantly. I obliged and handed it to her.  
  
“Ah, this was Charley’s old wand!” She said as she looked it over “12 inches, ash, with a unicorn tail hair core. This wand once belonged to your great-grandfather, Ignatius Prewett, I believe.”  
  
“I expect you to take good care of it” She said sternly, handing it back. “Now, let’s sort out your other equipment, shall we?”  
  
She waved her wand, and the two trunks jumped into the air from where they had been sitting, coming to a rest in front of me. One was black with steel fastenings and the other was red with brass fastenings. They both had an old, worn look to them, with cracked wood, peeling paint, and rusted fastenings and hinges.  
  
“Which one would you like?” Mum asked. I pointed to the black one. Mum nodded and began to wave her wand in a complex pattern again. Both trunks popped open their lids, and inside each I saw what looked to be a very disorganized mess. After giving a very annoyed huff, Mum began to remove the trunks contents and organize them.  
  
Clothes flowed out of the trunks and folded themselves, stacking neatly on the end of the bed. Various books and boxes also floated out of the trunks and set themselves in pairs. One pair of wide, flat boxes was marked in faded letters was _Slug & Jigger’s Standard Potions Kit._ A pair of cubic boxes was marked _Slug & Jigger’s Glass Phial Set._ Another pair was labeled _Slug & Jigger’s Scales and Weights._  
  
Two pewter cauldrons were cleaned of soot and what looked like potion residue. Two battered telescopes were cleaned and repaired. Various parchment was stacked and tied up in twine, then placed on the bookshelf. Other bits and pieces of garbage, such as old ink bottles, broken quills, torn and ruined parchment, and old potions ingredients was vanished.  
  
“May I see your book list, Ronald?” Mum asked after carefully inspecting the contents of the _Slug & Jigger’s_ boxes. I complied, pulling it out and handing it to her.  
  
“The Defense book is new, we will have to get you a copy” she said as she read it. “But I think I have a copy of the others.”  
  
With a wave of her wand, another trunk appeared with a quiet crack. It opened and I saw that it was full of old text books. Mum leaned down to look through them, and pulled out what looked like six copies of the books on my school list. They were stacked neatly in the black trunk, along with one of every pairs of equipment.  
  
“Now, let’s see if we can fit some of Bill’s old robes on you.” Mum said as she turned to me. I gulped at the dangerous glint in her eye.  
  
\--  
  
It was when I walked into my room to put away my new trunk (or new to me at least) that I spotted the note I had written this morning. Remembering what I had written on it, it occurred to me that having such a note just laying around was probably not a good idea.  
  
Picking it up from my desk where I had left it, I wondered how I could get rid of it. The best thing to do would be to burn it. I could not just throw it in the trash, because someone could retrieve it later. Ripping it up was not an option either, as a wizard could just Repairo it. But I didn’t see how I could burn it either, because it was the height of summer, so it would seem odd if I lit a fire in the fire place.  
  
Maybe I could use magic to burn it? Not wand magic, but accidental magic. If I remembered correctly, accidental magic could happen when a witch or wizard was angry or scared. And I had a lot of repressed anger.  
  
Sitting down on my bed, I closed my eyes. Focusing inward, I reached in and dredged up old repressed memories. Memories I had tried my best to forget. Memories of my abusive Godfather, who I hated. Opening my eyes, I looked at the note in my hand, imagining that it was my Godfather’s face, and that it was on fire.  
  
The note burned to ash in my hand.


	8. Chapter 8

In the Burrow, there were five fireplaces connected to the Floo Network, one in the living room, one in Dad’s study, one in the master bedroom, one in the kitchen, and one in a special room on the second floor that was called The Floo Room. What made this room so special, you ask? It was the only room that travelers in the Floo Network could exit or enter through. Although it was possible to send messages to the other fireplaces via sticking your head through, or speaking to the fireplace after throwing Floo powder at it, they were too small to actually step through.  
  
Speaking of the Floo Network, there was one other important thing to note about it. Maintaining the Burrow’s connection to the Floo Network was perhaps the biggest drain on the Weasley’s income. As I understood it, almost 50% of Dad’s paycheck went into paying for it. There was a reason why it was expensive, but my understanding of that reason was rather poor. Dad had once tried to explain it to Ron, but most of it had gone right over his head. Though I got the gist that the reason was political rather than technical.  
  
As for why the Weasley’s would maintain such an expensive drain on their finances was largely due to cultural and social reasons. In the wizarding world, having a Floo connection was similar to having a telephone or internet connection in the 21st century muggle world, with a similar stigma for _not_ have one. You just weren’t considered part of the in-crowd if you didn’t have a Floo connection. Also, it was very convenient for magicals that did not like to, or could not, Apparate, but needed to move faster than a broom could afford them.  
  
It was in the Floo room that the Weasley’s gathered to prepare for their journey to Diagon Ally.  
  
\--  
  
The room was empty when I walked into it. Having decided that burnt-orange just wasn’t my color, I was dressed in my school robes. There was a large window just across from the staircase that looked out east from the Burrow. There was no furniture other than a single arm-chair with an ottoman. The walls were decorated with framed photos of the Weasley family, that waved like the posters in my bedroom.  
  
Seeing that no-one was there, I decided to sit in the arm-chair while waiting for the rest of the family to show up. I did not have to wait long, as Fred and George entered the room a few moments later. After looking around the room, Fred spotted me in the chair. Grinning, he elbowed George and nodded in my direction.  
  
“Oh, hey Ron!” Fred said “we’re glad you’re here!”  
  
“Yeah! We wanted to ask you something” George continued.  
  
“Oh? and what would that be?” I asked, raising an eye brow, clasping my hands in my lap, and crossing my legs.  
  
Fred walked forward and sat to my left on an arm on the arm-chair, putting his arm on the rim of the chair, while George sat on the ottoman in front of me.  
  
“Well, truth is, Ron…” Fred said seriously  
  
“We weren’t quite sure how you did it.” George continued  
  
“Did what?” I asked, confusedly looking between them. The twins goggled at me.  
  
“You pulled a prank on Percy!” Fred exclaimed.  
  
“And blew up half the kitchen!” Said George.  
  
“And yet, you got nary an extra chore!”  
  
“Or grounded!”  
  
“Or even yelled at!”  
  
“We just want to know how you did it.”  
  
“Because we’ve been trying for years to get away with stuff, and never have!”  
  
“Teach us your ways, oh master!” they chorused.  
  
I looked between the two of them, bemused. I should have seen this coming. It was true that Mum had never given the Twins a free pass, probably because they never seemed to learn that Mum did not much care for pranks or rule-breaking. So when I got away with not only pranking Percy, but blowing up the kitchen, the twins were probably very shocked.  
  
But that raised another, more important question: why had I felt the need to pull a prank on Percy? As far as I remembered, neither Bool nor Ron had ever felt the need to pull pranks on people. Bool was the sort of person that found being pranked one of the most annoying things ever, so Bool didn’t prank other people. And Ron was only 11 years old, continually picked on by his older brothers, particularly Fred and George. Ron was not old enough or wise enough to one-up any of his brothers.  
  
But I was not just Ron or Bool, but a mixture, a combination of both. And it seemed that being two people at once had nasty unexpected side effects. I had already experienced some of them today. One had been when I was still in my room. After realizing that I was hungry, my mind had suddenly been pulled in two directions, warring within itself. One part of me had wanted to go down and eat right away, the other had wanted to stay and get dressed first.  
  
The other had happened when Mum had yelled at me for being mean to Percy. Normally, she would have just yelled Ron’s ear off, then made him promise not to do it again. And that would have been that. But when she had started yelling at me, Ron’s fear of and respect for his Mum, and Bool’s PTSD had somehow fed off of each other, causing me to be so terrified that I had fainted and blown up the kitchen.  
  
When I had walked out greet Percy and inform him that breakfast was ready as Mum had instructed me to, he had made a flippant comment about actually listening to Mum for once. Normally, Ron, or even Bool, would have just brushed this comment off. But I hadn’t. I had felt the need to belittle and make fun of Percy. Did being the combination of two people bring out an uglier side to my personality? The evidence seemed to suggest it did.  
  
It was George snapping his fingers in my face that brought me out of my introspection.  
  
“Earth to Ron, earth to Ron” he said, continually snapping his fingers in my face. “Are you in there, brother?”  
  
I jerked my head back, and turned my attention back to the twins. What should I tell them? I couldn’t tell them the truth, which was that I had manipulated my Mother into feeling sorry for me. Truth be told, I was suddenly weary of saying anything that I would regret later.  
  
Bool, despite being very good at manipulating people, had hated that part of himself, and had always tried to be honest with people he trusted. With people he didn’t know or trust, he simply kept his mouth shut, figuring that words not spoken were words not regretted.  
  
Ron on the other hand, was a motor-mouth, saying what-ever was on his mind the moment it occurred to him. He was not very good at keeping secrets, didn’t know a thing about discretion, and wore his heart on his sleeve.  
  
While manipulating Mum had been necessary, that didn’t mean that I had liked doing it. And if I was honest with myself, I liked the idea of manipulating the twins even less.  
  
“Are you ok, Ron?” asked Fred, a look of concern on his face. “You spaced out there for a minute.”  
  
“I’m fine” I said testily. “I was just thinking, that’s all.”  
  
After looking between Fred and George a few times, I sighed and said “I didn’t really do much. I was just honest with Mum about my feelings, that’s all.”  
  
“Whaat? That can’t be it.” Said Fred disbelievingly.  
  
“We’ve tried that loads of times and it never works!” said George.  
  
“Well maybe if Mum had not lost her patience with you two years ago, it would still work!” I said in a heated tone, losing my temper.  
  
“Woah, Ron. No need to get angry” said George, a little surprised. I deflated. Did it really take so little to make me mad?  
  
“Yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry.” I replied, suddenly really tired. “Can we just, _not_ have this conversation right now, please? Or, like, ever?”  
  
“Uh, sure, if it means that much to you.” Said Fred, an inscrutable expression on his face. The twins were prevented from saying anything else by the arrival of Mum, Ginny, and Percy.  
  
“Oh good, you’re already here.” Said Mum as she walked down the stairs. “Gather ‘round, you lot.”  
  
We did so, and Mum counted and passed out 10 sickles each to me, Fred and George.  
  
“Percy and I have a lot of shopping to do, so I expect you to be responsible enough to do your own shopping.” She said as she passed them out. She then pierced the twins with a very stern look.  
  
“And you two, _behave._ ” Mum said. “If I get word that you’ve dung-bombed another shop-”  
  
“Ah, but Mum!” Fred cried “They deserved it!”  
  
“That shop-keeper was beating a kid-” George continued.  
  
“ENOUGH!” Mum said in a deathly quiet voice. Fred and George shut up at once. They knew better than to back-talk her when her voice was like that. She glared at them for several moments, then said in her normal, stern voice.  
  
“We’ve already discussed this.” She said. “What are you to do if you witness something like that again?”  
  
“Report it to the authorities.” The twins said sullenly.  
  
“Correct.” Mum replied. “And why do we report it to the authorities?”  
  
“Because it is the right thing to do.” the twins chorused.  
  
“Yes.” Said Mum “I’m glad that you remember. We don’t want a repeat of last year, do we?”  
  
The twins just grumbled.  
  
“Good. Now, I expect you two to keep an eye on Ron.” Mum said, before turning to look at the rest of her children. “And if you step a single toe in Knockturn, you will be scrubbing the whole Burrow from top to bottom before you can say ‘Hogwarts’, understand?”  
  
Everyone nodded.  
  
Mum smiled, and said “Wonderful, dears. Ron, why don’t you go first?”  
  
“Ok” I replied. Walking to the fireplace, I grabbed a pinch of Flow powder. Stepping into the fireplace, I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and said:  
  
“Diagon Alley.”


	9. Chapter 9

> The Leaky Cauldron was a bright, cheerful place, with pastel white walls, a dining hall with a lofty, arched roof, and wooden tables and benches. After I stepped out of the fire place, brushing off ash, I turned around and noticed that there were three such fireplaces, each tall enough that a person could step in them. I moved a short distance away to wait for the others. I did not have to wait long, as soon the rest of the Weasley family was gathered in the entryway.
> 
> “Alright, we have three hours before I have to start getting ready for the party” said Mum, checking her watch. She then turned her attention to me and the twins. “I expect you lot to be back here by then, understand?”
> 
> The twins and I nodded.
> 
> “Good” Mum replied, then said sternly “And don’t go spending all your money at the joke shop. That money is for school supplies.”
> 
> We nodded again. Mum smiled and said “Alright then, see you in three hours.” She turned and walked out of the pub, Percy and Ginny trailing after her. Fred and George then turned to me.
> 
> “Right, Ron. We’re going to Gambol and Japes” said Fred
> 
> “We had plans to buy some dung bombs.” Said George
> 
> “and Filibuster’s fireworks.”
> 
> “We’re not going school shopping?” I asked, incredulous. “You know, like Mum _told_ us to? You do realize that you will be in big trouble if she finds out.”
> 
> “Jeez, lighten up, Ron” Fred responded.
> 
> “You’re starting to sound like Percy” Said George.
> 
> I snorted. “Please. Unlike him, I have a sense of humor.” I said before sighing. “Alright, but don’t say I hadn’t told you so.”
> 
> The twins nodded, and together we turned and walked out of The Leaky Cauldron. After stepping into the walled courtyard, Fred pulled out his wand and tapped the wall that was across from the door. I was treated to the sight of the bricks in the wall moving and rearranging themselves into an arched entryway that led into Diagon Alley.
> 
> The twins quickly moved forward, no doubt eager to get to the joke shop. I followed them for a few moments, until we hit the crowd. Stopping, I watched as Fred and George continued to walk forward, unaware that I was no longer behind them. They obliviously kept walking, and I watched as they moved around a corner of the Alley, far ahead of me. After shaking my head in amusement, I started walking at a more sedate pace, taking the time to look at my surroundings.
> 
> Wizarding London had a clean, crisp look to it. There was no filth or grime on the street, every shopfront looked as if it had just been cleaned, even the people looked clean and healthy. As I walked my way toward my destination, I spotted a wizard dressed in what looked to be a very prim and proper set of blue robes, a shiny badge on his chest. He was standing between two shop-fronts, looking over the crowd with a stern expression on his face.
> 
> The wizard’s presence triggered a memory, one of Ron’s memories. I stopped, experienced a brief flash-back, then looked at the wizard in shock. After a moment, I looked away and shook my head, then hurriedly walked further down the Alley.
> 
> According to Ronald’s memories, the wizard in question was a Ministry Peace-keeper, which apparently were the wizarding equivalent of muggle police. Every wizarding community had its own corps of Ministry Peace-keepers, each headed by a Peace-keeper with the title of Warden. Wizarding London, on the other hand, was the only magical community that was big enough to need Deputy-wardens, with a Chief-warden at the top.
> 
> What had shocked me was the fact that Bool did not have any memories in which the books had mentioned anything called “Peace-keepers”. In the books, the auror’s had always seemed to fill that role. I remembered that there had been something called the hitwizard squad, they were absent in Ron’s memories.
> 
> After giving it some thought, I had to admit that it was likely that the books did not conform to the world I had found myself in. But that was in itself worrying. What if the information I had from Bool was not factual? What if I really was flying blind, and I did not have the knowledge that I needed to survive? Well, I had a job to do right now, so I decided to worry about it later.
> 
> \--
> 
> It was at a very homely store called Quills & Sofas that I purchased the other items I needed for the school year. True to it’s name, it sold stationary and furniture. It also sold second-hand books, so I had gotten the one text book I needed, in addition to stationary. I had also gotten three other books that had interested me. Their names were _A Guide to Grooming for the Dashing Wizard or Beautiful Witch, A Hundred and One Useful Charms for Daily Use,_ and a very old, very battered copy of _Hogwarts, a History._
> 
> When I left the shop, I decided to go back to The Leaky Cauldron to buy a butterbeerand wait for the rest of the family to arrive. I spent the next two and a half hours reading my copy of _Hogwarts, a History,_ and sipping my butterbeer.
> 
> \--
> 
> “Ronald!” Came the voice of Mum. I looked up from my book and notice that she was walking down the rows of tables toward me, Percy and Ginny trailing behind her.
> 
> “Ronald” Mum repeated as she came to a stop next to me. “There you are. What are you doing?”
> 
> “I was just reading while I waited for you get back.” I said, indicating my book.
> 
> “Oh, that’s fine dear, but where are Fred and George?” She said, looking around the hall.
> 
> “I don’t know, they said something about going to Gambol and Japes” I said, shrugging. “I have not seen them since. I went and got my shopping done, though.” I said, indicating my shopping bag.
> 
> Mum gained a very cross look on her face as she muttered “Those two, I told them to keep an eye on you! And what do you mean, they went to Gambol and Japes?!”
> 
> “That’s what they said they were doing.” I said “They were in such a rush that I could not keep up with them in the crowd. So I just went and got my things, then came straight back here.”
> 
> Mum was prevented from responding by the sound of Fred’s voice.
> 
> “Mum! Mum! Ron’s disappeared!’ said Fred as he and George ran up to her. They both had very stricken looks on their face.
> 
> “We were in the shop when we noticed he wasn’t with us!” said George
> 
> “We’ve been looking for him all over the place, but we couldn’t find him!”
> 
> “He’s vanished! We couldn’t find him anywhere!”
> 
> They were both stopped from more by Mum, who had rose her hand. She then wove it in my direction. The twins looked at me, shocked to see me there. I rose my hand and wove it.
> 
> “Um” Fred started
> 
> “Good to see you there, Ron. We didn’t see you.” Said George.
> 
> “Not. Another. Word.” Mum said, her voice a deathly whisper. “Where are your school supplies?”
> 
> “Um, we were looking for Ron the whole time.” Said Fred.
> 
> “We didn’t have time to go shopping.” Said George.
> 
> “I see.” Said Mum, before turning and walking toward the Floo fireplaces “Come along then, I will deal with you lot at home.”
> 
> I picked up my things, and got up to walk behind the twins who were walking behind Mum.
> 
> “Where were you!” whispered Fred furiously over his shoulder.

> “Here” I said simply.
> 
>  


	10. Chapter 10

The rest of the month passed at a rather sedate pace. In the mornings I played Quidditch with the twins and their friend Lee Jordan, who came by way of Floo. After lunch, I would retreat to my room to read my books. I explained away my sudden change in behavior by saying that now that I was going to Hogwarts, I needed to take my studies seriously. Fred and George complained that I was become too much like Percy, but the rest of the family, particularly Mum, lapped it right up.  
  
One thing of note that happened was when Percy gave me Scabbers as a pet the day after Diagon. To be honest, I was not sure what to do about Scabbers. I knew that he was really Peter Pettigrew, and that he was responsible for the Death of Lily and James Potter, the Death of 13 muggles, and the incarceration of Sirius Black without a trial. However, I was not sure how to go about setting right his wrongs.  
  
It was not simply a matter of giving him to the right officials, because I did not know who would be the right Officials. My knowledge of the world I had found myself in was spotty at best, completely false at worse. The presence of the Peace-keepers at Diagon alley had proved that. I did not know who I could trust to do the right thing. So I had decided to adopt a “wait and see” approach.  
  
One thing was for certain, I was not going to let him sleep in my bed. I had made a bed for him out of the burnt orange robe that I was never going to ware again. He only tried to sleep in my bed once. When I found out, I put him in his cage for the rest of the night, with only water and nothing to eat or keep him warm. He got the message, and did not try to sleep in my bed again.  
  
The other thing of note that happened was the twin’s punishment from Mum, and their subsequent revenge on me for getting them in trouble. True to her word, Mum had them cleaning the house from top to bottom. They might not have stepped into Knockturn, but apparently, going to Gambol and Japes first, losing track of me, and not getting their shopping done was about equivalent in Mums eyes. Their revenge took the form of multiple pranks spaced out over the month, out of Mum’s sight. It was not much different than what they normally did, except now it was targeted at me, instead of Percy, their normal target.  
  
The morning of Saturday, September 1st 1991 had dawned bright and early. The Weasley’s where the kind of family that was slow to rouse, particularly on the first day of school. After a lot of hubbub, we all (sans Dad, who was at work) piled into the old Ford Angela and were off to Kings Cross in London.  
  
\--  
  
Despite the fact that we were all waring Muggle clothing, the Weasley’s stood out at the muggle train station of Kings Cross. Maybe it was that fact that we all had red hair, or the fact that we had an owl and rat in tow, or Maybe it was the fact that Mum was talking loudly about nonsensical things like “Muggles” or “Hogwarts” or “Platform 9 ¾ ‘s”.  
  
“I see it’s packed with Muggles, of course.” She said, as we walked toward the barrier between Platform 9 and Platform 10.  
  
“Now, what’s the platform number?” Mum asked as she turned back to look at us. I looked at her incredulously. What other platform did we just come here for?  
  
“Nine and Three-quarters!” piped Ginny, who I noticed was holding Mum’s hand. “oh, Mum, can’t I go…”  
  
“You’re not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet.” Mum replied sternly, before turning to Percy “All right, Percy, you go first.”  
  
Percy aimed his cart at the barrier between platform 9 and platform 10, and started marching towards it. After a minute, I saw him pass thought it like it was not there.  
  
I turned my head, looking around the platforms. After a moment, I spotted him. A small, pale kid with black hair and bright green eyes was standing not 5 feet from us. His attention was on Mum, so he did not see me looking at him. I averted my eyes, not wanting him to catch me staring, as that might change the flow of events.  
  
“Fred, you next,” Mum said.  
  
“I’m not Fred, I’m George,” said Fred. “Honestly, woman, you call yourself our mother? Can’t you _tell_ I’m George?”  
  
“Sorry, George, dear.”  
  
“Only joking, I am Fred,” said Fred, and off he went. George had gone on ahead of him, and called back for Fred to hurry up. A moment later, they both had passed through the barrier.  
  
“Excuse me,” The black haired boy had said.  
  
“Hello, dear,” Said Mum. “First time at Hogwarts? Ron’s new, too.”  
  
Mum pointed at me, and the black haired boy looked at me. Having been afforded a closer look at him, I could now see the distinctive lightning bold scar on his forehead. He spared me only a brief glance, before turning his attention back to Mum.  
  
“Yes,” said the boy. “The thing is – the thing is, I don’t know how to -”  
  
“How to get onto the platform?” Asked Mum kindly, and the boy nodded.  
  
“Not to worry,” she said. “All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best to do it at the bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, go now before Ron.”  
  
“Er – okay,” Said the boy.  
  
He turned and aimed his cart at the barrier. He must have been nervous, because after a moment, he started running. A moment later, he and his cart had disappeared behind the barrier.  
  
“Well, it’s your turn, Ron,” said Mum a moment later. “Off you go.”  
  
I nodded, aimed my cart at the barrier, and started walking at a brisk pace toward the barrier. Passing through a moment later, I was greeted by the sight of scarlet steam engine next to a platform packed with people. A sigh overhead said Hogwarts express, eleven o’clock.  
  
I moved my cart out of the way for Mum and Ginny, who had just come through the wrought-iron archway that said _Platform Nine and Three-quarters_ on it. After walking down the platform for a bit, we came to a car that was near the end of the train.  
  
“Fred? George? Are you there?” Mum called out.  
  
I heard one of the twins reply from inside the train car.  
  
After a moment, the twins hopped out of the train car.  
  
“Where’s Percy?” Asked Mum after looking around the platform.  
  
“He’s coming now.” Said Fred.  
  
Percy came striding into sight. He had already changed into his billowing black Hogwarts robes, with his shiny silver Prefect badge pinned to his chest.  
  
“Can’t stay long, Mother,” he said. “I’m up front, the prefects have got two compartments to themselves – ”  
  
“Oh, are you a _prefect,_ Percy?” asked Fred, with an air of great surprise. “You should have said something, we had no idea!”  
  
“Hang on, I think I remember him saying something about it,” said George. “Once -”  
  
“Or twice -”  
  
“A minute -”  
  
“All summer -”  
  
“Oh, shut up,” said Percy the Prefect.  
  
“How came Percy get new robes, anyway?” Asked George.  
  
“Because he’s a _prefect,_ ” said Mum fondly. “All right, dear, well, have a good term – send me an owl when you get there.”  
  
She kissed Percy on the cheek and he left. Then she turned to the twins.  
  
“Now, you two – this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you’ve – you’ve blown up a toilet or -”  
  
“Blown up a toilet? We’ve never blown up a toilet.”  
  
“Great idea though, thinks, Mum.”  
  
“It’s _not funny._ And look after Ron.”  
  
At this point, their eyes widened a bit.  
  
“Are you sure Ron needs looking after?” Asked Fred while they both scrutinized me. I raised an eyebrow.  
  
“Given how much he’s turning into Percy, I’m sure he will be tattling to teachers in no time.” Said George.  
  
“Good point,” said Mum. “Ron, be a dear and keep an eye on the twins for me, would you?”  
  
“Yes, Mum.”  
  
“Hey, Mum, guess what? Guess who we just met on the train?” asked Fred.  
  
“You know that black-haired boy who was near us in the station? Know who he is?” continued George.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“ _Harry Potter!_ ” they chorused.  
  
“Oh, Mum, can I go on the train and see him, Mum, oh please…” Said Ginny.  
  
“You’ve already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn’t something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really, Fred? How do you know?”  
  
“Asked him. Saw his scar. It’s really there – like lightning.”  
  
“Poor _dear_ \- no wonder he was alone, I wondered. He was ever so polite when he asked how to get onto the platform.”  
  
“Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You-Know-Who looks like?”  
  
Mum suddenly became very stern.  
  
“I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don’t you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school.”  
  
“All right, keep your hair on.”  
  
A whistle sounded.  
  
“Hurry up!” said Mum, so the Twins and I clambered onto the train. We leaned out the window for her to kiss us good-bye, and Ginny began to cry.  
  
“Don’t, Ginny, we’ll send you loads of owls.”  
  
“We’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat!”  
  
“ _George_!”  
  
“Only joking, Mum.”  
  
The train began to move. Mum was waving, and Ginny, half laughing, half crying, was running to keep up with the train until it gathered too much speed, then she fell back, and waved.  
  
Then, with the train rounding the corner, Platform Nine and Three Quarters was gone.


	11. Chapter 11

The twins said something about finding a compartment to put their trunks in. Pausing at the door to the compartment next to the car entrance, I opened it.  
  
Spotting the black-haired boy from earlier, I said “Hello, may I sit in here?”  
  
The black-haired boy nodded, and I moved into the compartment. After putting my trunk and Scabbers’s cage under the seat, I sat down across from him.  
  
“My name is Ronald Weasley, but everyone calls me Ron. How do you do?” I said, holding out my hand.  
  
Taking it hesitantly, the boy responded. “I’m Harry Potter.”  
  
\--  
  
Over the past month, I had been debating what to do if I met Harry on the train. The truth of the matter was I was not sure if I wanted to befriend him or not. Having Harry as my friend, or even best mate, had a lot of merits, but it also had a lot of detriments.  
  
In terms of merits, there was the fact that Harry was the Boy Who Lived, in other words, he was very famous. He was also rich. Having some who was both famous and rich in my corner could be very useful politically. There was also the fact that, if events had panned out the same as canon, he would be very loyal to me as his first friend and best mate.  
  
However, I had a few problems with that. Firstly, I didn’t like exploiting people. Secondly, I didn’t like manipulating people. Bool’s experience with exploited and manipulated relationships had taught that such relationships tended to be hollow, and that people often felt resentment at you if they found out. Genuine relationships, on the other hand, tended to be emotionally rewarding, and often tended to last longer.  
  
But there was a problem with that as well. Mentally speaking, I was an adult. I may have had the emotions of an eleven-year-old child, but I was an adult in my thought process. If I was to have a genuine relationship with a child, I would have to let my adult side out. Which could make it more difficult to relate with a child. And if I was going to have a relationship with Harry, I would have to find a way to relate with him.  
  
In terms of detriments, when Voldemort came back, he was going to be gunning for Harry and anyone who dared to side with him. which would mean me if I befriended Harry. However, he would probably be gunning for me anyway, because my family was a bunch of blood traitors, and would fight against him. So that one detriment was not really one that I could change anyway, unless I switched sides. Which was not going to happen.  
  
I decided that in the end, it didn’t even matter. Whatever happened, life would go on. So, if I met Harry on the train, I would be genuine with him. Whether or not I would be his friend would be a decision that I would leave up to Harry.  
  
\--  
  
A moment later, the twins were back.  
  
“Hey, Ron”  
  
I turned my head to look at them.  
  
“Listen, we’re going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan’s got a giant tarantula down there.”  
  
“Very well,” I replied. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”  
  
“Har har” said Fred sarcastically.  
  
“Harry,” said George. “did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And this is Ron, our brother. See you later, then.”  
  
“Bye,” said Harry and I. The twins slid the compartment door shut behind them.  
  
“A tarantula?” I muttered, disbelief coloring my voice. “They’re welcome to it. Nasty things.”  
  
“You don’t like spiders?” asked Harry, who sounded interested.  
  
“Hate them,” I replied, looking up at Harry’s face. “Ever since Fred and George turned my favorite teddy bear into a giant hairy one. On top of me.”  
  
Harry laughed. A feeling of embarrassment flooded my chest, and I could feel my ears burning. I looked out the window.  
  
“It’s not funny.” I murmured under my breath.  
  
“I’m sorry.” I heard Harry say. Looking over at him, I saw a tinge of awkwardness on his face, as if he was not sure how to respond.  
  
“It’s okay,” I said. “I guess it would sound funny if you had not experienced it.”  
  
Harry looked relived.  
  
“Are all your family wizards?” asked Harry, who looked interested.  
  
“All that I know of.” I replied. “I remember Mum talking about one of her cousins who’s an accountant, but I never met him.”  
  
“So you must know loads of magic already.” Harry looked glum.  
  
“Not really.” I replied, smiling.” You’re not supposed to do magic outside of school, so it’s not like my parents could teach me anything. Plus, there’re are many muggle-borns starting at Hogwarts, and they don’t know anything, so it is unlikely that anyone has much of a head start.”  
  
Harry perked up at my reassurance, grinning.  
  
“Well, that’s a relief, I was worried I’d be behind.”  
  
“I heard that you were living with Muggles.” I said. “What are they like?”  
  
“Horrible – well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though. Wish I’d had three wizard brothers.”  
  
“Five, actually.” I said. “I’m the sixth in the family to go to Hogwarts. My brothers have quite the reputation. Bill and Charlie have already left – Bill was head-boy and Charlie was the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Percy’s a prefect now. Fred and George like to prank people, but they get good marks and everyone likes them. Mum expects me to be just as good as they were, so I guess I have a lot to live up to.”  
  
“Plus it there are some downside to having five older brothers. Everything I have is a hand-me-down. I’ve have Bill’s old robes, Charlie’s old wand, and Percy’s old rat.”  
  
I reached under the seat and pulled out Scabbers’s cage, inside of which was the fat gray rat himself, who was currently sleeping in his bed of burnt orange robe.  
  
“His name is Scabbers and he’s useless, he only wakes up when it’s time to eat,” I said as I scowled at him “The freeloader.”  
  
“Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, so Percy gave me Scabbers, because he could only have one pet at school.”  
  
“You couldn’t get your own pet?” asked Harry.  
  
I could feel my face flush at his question, and he immediately back-tracked.  
  
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I mean…”  
  
“No, its fine.” I said, sighing. “My family is poor, so they couldn’t afford to get me new things.”  
  
“There’s nothing wrong about that. A month ago I didn’t have any money at all. I had to wear old cloths from used cloths shops, and I never got any proper birthdays or presents, and until Hagrid told me, I didn’t know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort -”  
  
I blinked, feeling surprised.  
  
“What?” Harry asked.  
  
“You shouldn’t say his name, there was a big Taboo on it years ago, and people still don’t say it now that he’s gone.”  
  
“I’m not trying to be _brave_ or anything, saying the name” said Harry. “I just never knew you shouldn’t. See what I mean? I’ve got loads to learn…. I bet. I bet I’m the worst in the class”  
  
His glum look was back. I sighed.  
  
“You won’t be. As I have said, there are loads of people who haven’t been trained, from Muggle and Wizarding families alike.”  
  
While we had been talking, the train had carried us out of London. Now we were speeding past fields full of cows and sheep. We stopped talking for a while, and watched the fields and lanes flick past.  
  
Around half past twelve there was a great clattering outside in the corridor and a smiling, dimpled woman slid back our door and said, “Anything off the cart, dears?”  
  
Harry leapt to his feet and looked at me expectantly. I shook my head and waved him away. Shrugging, he walked out to the corridor and closed the door behind him. I was alone for the first time since this morning.  
  
I thought about the past hour. Harry seemed like a nice kid. He had looked different than I had expected. In the way that I did not look like my movie counter-part, he did not look like his movie counter-part. He was a look smaller and scrawnier than I expected. His hair was a genuine rats-nest, hair flying every which way. His eyes were a bright emerald green. and he was wearing some nice, round glasses. Of his clothes, I noticed that they looked a bit newer than I had expected, and fit his frame very well.  
  
I thought I had established a good rapport with him, and it seemed that I had succeeded, as we had a good long conversation at the start of our journey. He had asked questions that I had more or less expected, and I had tried my best to be who I really was. I guess it would be up to him to decide if I was worthy enough to be his friend.  
  
My thoughts were interrupted by Harry opening the door. He walked in with his arms filled with all sorts of wizarding treats and candies.  
  
“Hungry, are you?” I asked.  
  
“Starving,” said Harry, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pasty. I pulled my trunk out from under the seat, and opened it. Rummaging around in it, I pulled out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside, peanut butter and grape jam. Bool had not liked jam, but Ron did, and so did I. I had taken an extra precaution this morning and had prepared and wrapped the sandwiches myself. I also pulled out a bottle of water.  
  
“Peanut butter and grape jam, would you like one?” I asked, handing out one to Harry, who gratefully took it.  
  
“Yeah, I forgot to pack food this morning.” He said. “Swap you for one of these, Go on.”  
  
“Sure, thanks.” I replied.  
  
“What are these?” Harry asked me, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. “they’re not _really_ frogs, are they?”  
  
“No,” I said. “but they have cards in them, you know, to collect – famous witches and wizards. I’ve got about five hundred, but I haven’t got Agrippa or Ptolemy.”  
  
Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked out the card.  
  
“So _this_ is Dumbledore!” Said Harry.  
  
“Yeah, He’s pretty famous.” I said.  
  
He flipped it over and read it for a moment, while I was busy eating my sandwich.  
  
“He’s gone!” Harry after flipping it back over.  
  
“Yeah, the card makers like to enchant the photos so that they move. He’ll be back.”  
  
“Really? They don’t do that in the Muggle world.”  
  
“I know,” I replied. “It’s kind of weird.”  
  
\--  
  
The countryside now flying past the window was becoming wilder. The neat fields had gone. Now there were woods, twisting rivers, and dark green hills.  
  
There was a knock on the door of our compartment, and a tear-stricken round-faced boy came in.  
  
“Sorry,” he said, “but have you seen a toad at all?”  
  
When we shook our heads, he wailed, “I’ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!”  
  
“He’ll turn up,” said Harry.  
  
“Yes,” said the boy miserably. “Well, if you see him…”  
  
He left.  
  
I hmm’ed thoughtfully.  
  
“What?” Asked Harry.  
  
“Nothing, I was just curious why he had a toad of all things,” I said “It’s not a particularly popular pet. And either that boy is very forgetful, or that pet is desperate to escape him.”  
  
“Well, I do hope he finds him,” said Harry, who was chuckling. I nodded.  
  
\--  
  
In what seemed like only a few minutes later, the compartment door slid open again. The toadless boy was back, but this time he had a girl with him. she was already wearing her new Hogwarts robes.  
  
“Has anyone seen a toad? Neville’s lost one,” She said. She had a bossy sort of voice, lots of bushy brown hair, and rather large front teeth.  
  
“He was just in here less than ten minutes ago” I said. “We haven’t seen his toad.”  
  
“Although, you could ask a prefect to summon it.” I said after pausing thoughtfully for a moment.  
  
“You mean with a summoning charm?” said the girl. “I thought we didn’t learn that until fourth year?”  
  
“Prefects are fifth years” I dead-panned.  
  
Her face turned pink.  
  
“I – sorry, I have been rude haven’t I?” she said, “I apologize. I’m Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?”  
  
“I’m Ron Weasley,” I said.  
  
“Harry Potter”  
  
“Are you really?” ask Hermione curiously. “I know all about you, of course – I got a few extra books for background reading, and you’re in _Modern Magical History_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”  
  
“Am I?” said Harry, who looked dazed.  
  
“Goodness, didn’t you know, I’d have found out everything I could if it was me,” said Hermione. “Do either of you know what house you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around, and I hope I’m in Gryffindor, It sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad… Anyway, we’d better go and look for Neville’s toad. You two had better change, you know, I expect we’ll be there soon.”  
  
And she left, taking the toadless boy with her.  
  
“She talks a lot, doesn’t she?” I said, “I don’t think she took one breath, in-between all that.”  
  
“What house are your brothers in?” asked Harry after he nodded at my comment.  
  
“Gryffindor,” I said. “Mom and Dad were in it, too. I’m not sure what they would think if I’m not in it. I’m not even sure what house I’ll be in. I just really don’t want to be in Gryffindor.”  
  
“Why not?” asked Harry. I chuckled bitterly a little at his question.  
  
“Everyone expects me to be just like my brothers,” I said. “But I’m not. I want to be different. I plan to walk a different path.”  
  
“What house do you want to be in?” asked Harry, who looked curious.  
  
“I’m not sure.” I replied. “But it could be any house, really.”  
  
“What about Slytherin?” asked Harry.  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“Wasn’t that they house Vol-, I mean, You-Know-who was in?”  
  
“Yeah, but that does not mean that the house is bad,” I said.” Just that it had a bad egg in it”  
  
“Hagrid told me that there wasn’t dark wizard out there that wasn’t in Slytherin.” Harry said darkly.  
  
“Really?” I said.” I thought Sirius Black was in Gryffindor?”  
  
“Who’s Sirius Black?” asked Harry.  
  
“Oh, right, you wouldn’t know,” I said. “He was a really bad Dark wizard from back in the day. They say he was on the side of Dumbledore during the war, only to betray him at the wars end. I don’t know how he betrayed Dumbledore, only that that he killed a wizard on Dumbledore side, along with 13 muggles. Everyone was surprised cause they thought he was Dumbledore’s man through and through. He did come from a dark family, so I guess he showed his true colors in the end.”  
  
Harry look shocked, and in a hesitant voice, he asked “Who was the wizard he killed?”  
  
“I don’t remember, sorry,” I said, frowning.  
  
Harry frowned and look up in thought.  
  
He was prevented from saying anything more by the sound of the compartment door sliding open again. But it wasn’t Neville the toadless boy, or Hermione Granger. Three boys entered, two of them big brawny brutes, and a smaller, pale and blonde haired boy.  
  
“Is it true?” he said, looking at Harry. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?”  
  
“Yes,” said Harry. He was looking at the other boys.  
  
“Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Coyle,” said the blonde haired boy carelessly, noticing where harry was looking. “And my name’s Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”  
  
I couldn’t help it, I laughed. It was the way he presented himself, as if introducing himself was Serious Business when he was a small, eleven-year-old boy.  
  
“Think my name’s funny, do you?” Malfoy asked, but I interjected before he could continue.  
  
“No, I think _you’re_ funny.” I said, before putting my hands on my hips and assuming an imitating posture. “My name is Malfoy, _Draco_ Malfoy.”  
  
Harry snorted, and a pink tinge appeared in Malfoy’s pale cheeks.  
  
“ _Hmmp_. Well, no need to ask who _you_ are.” He said, irritation coloring his speech. “My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.”  
  
“True,” I said, agreeing with him. a momentary look of surprise came over his face, as if my comment was completely unexpected.  
  
“But my brothers have accomplished a great deal at Hogwarts and in their careers. My eldest brother was Headboy at school, did you know? And now he’s a cursebreaker for Gringotts. He knows the goblins very well, he told me. My second eldest -”  
  
“I don’t want to hear about your _brothers_.” Malfoy sneered, but I continued on as if I had not heard him.  
  
“- brother was the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, and now he’s studying Dragons in Romania, isn’t that cool? And then there’s Percy-”  
  
“I said I don’t want to hear about your brothers!” Malfoy almost yelled. I looked up at him, a bit bemused.  
  
“But… but I want to tell you all about my brother Percy! Did you know that he became a prefect this year?” I asked innocently.  
  
Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but stopped before he spoke. I could see the gears working in his head. He scrutinized me for a moment, as if he had just now seen me.  
  
“I see.” He said softly, before turning to the door.  
  
“See you both at Hogwarts, Potter, Weasley.” He said as he walked out.


	12. Chapter 12

“What was that all about?” Harry asked me, a curious look on his face. “Why did Malfoy just leave?”

“I don’t know.” I said. I had expected him to put up more of a fight. Harry looked thoughtful.

“He seemed kind of mean,” He said. “Wasn’t he trying to insult you?”

“Yeah, it seems that way,” I replied. “Malfoy is someone watch out for.”

“Why?” asked Harry.

“We’re about to pull in to Hogsmeade,” I said. “ask me again sometime.”

We took off our jackets and pulled on our long black robes. Harry’s robes looked new, from Madam Malkin’s if I had to guess.

A voice echoed through the train: “We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes’ time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately.”

I was feeling excited; we were finally at Hogwarts! Harry on the other hand looked pale with nerves. He gave me a weak smile.

“Don’t worry, Harry! We’re going to have the time of our lives this year!” I said cheerfully.

“Right,” He mumbled

The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny, dark platform. I shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and I heard a loud, booming echo over us.

The lamp was being held by what looked like a giant. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but I could see his eyes, which looked bright and cheerful.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years over here!” Said the giant, his voice booming over the crowd. The giant’s gaze fell upon me and Harry. “All right there, Harry?”

“C’mon, follow me – any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years follow me!”

Slipping and stumbling, we followed the giant down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path with thick trees on either side. Nobody spoke much. Neville, the boy who kept losing his toad, sniffed once or twice.

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec,” the giant called over his shoulder, “jus’ round this bend here.”

There was a loud “Oooooh!”

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

I stared at it. The castle was massive, far bigger than I had expected. Nothing looked like it had in the movies. There had to be at least a hundred towers, many different wings spread out everywhere, and numerous verandas and parapets here and there. I wondered how anyone could find their way anywhere in that colossal building.

“No more’n four to a boat!” the giant called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry and I were followed into our boat by Neville and Hermione.

“Everyone in?” shouted the giant, who had a boat to himself. “Right then – FORWARD!”

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over us as we sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

“Heads down!” yelled the giant as the first boats reached the cliff; we all bent our heads and the little boats carried us through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. we were carried along dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking us right underneath the castle, until we reached a kind of underground harbor, where we clambered out onto rocks and pebbles.

We clambered up a passage way in the rock after the giant’s lamp, coming out at last onto smooth damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. We walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the enormous, oak front door.

“Everyone here?” called out the giant, who look over the crowd of first year’s. The giant then turned and raised his gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and my first was thought that she probably was not the kind of person who liked parties.

“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall,” said the giant.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here,” said Professor McGonagall.

She pulled the door wide, and I got my first glimpse of the entrance. My mouth fell open in amazement. The entrance hall was massive. It was so big you could have fit the entire Burrow in it and still have lots of room to spare. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing us led to the upper floors.

We followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. I could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed us into a small, empty chamber off the hall. We crowded in, standing rather closer together than I normally would have. I was having a hard time containing my excitement, but everyone else seemed to look nervous.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.”

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”

She left the chamber. I saw Harry gulp out of the corner of my eye.

“How exactly do they sort us into houses?” he asked me. I assumed a thoughtful expression.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My family wouldn’t tell me.”

“Why not?” he asked. I shrugged.

“It’s some sort of big secret.” I said. “Percy told me that it was some sort of test. Not sure though.”

Harry’s face turned white, and he looked around anxiously. I just continued staring at the door, waiting for Professor McGonagall to get back. I was hungry and annoyed that it was taking so long.

A few moments later, several people behind me screamed. I started, then looked back at the people behind me with an annoyed expression on my face. They were all staring at the ghosts that had just popped into the room. 

Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they all seemed to be arguing, about Peeves apparently. I stared up at them as they floated around, not paying much attention to what they were saying. Ron had known about ghosts, but had never seen one before.

After a minute of staring at the ghosts, I heard the sharp voice of Professor McGonagall.

“Move along now,” she said to the ghosts. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about the start.”

The ghosts left at her command.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told us. “and follow me.”

I could feel my excitement mounting. Finally, they were going to Sort us. I wondered what house I would be in? Hopefully not Gryffindor. I got into line behind Harry, and for the first time I noticed that I was the tallest of the first years, almost a full head taller. We walked out of the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Like the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall was enormous. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind us. The hundreds of faces staring at us looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. I looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. I heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open on the heavens.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty.

The hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing.

\--

After the hat sang its song, the whole hall burst into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the Hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause –

“HUFFLEPUFF” shouted the hat.

One of the tables on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. I saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan!”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

“RAVENCLAW!”

The Sorting went on for several minutes. Hermione and Neville went to Gryffindor, and Malfoy went to Slytherin as I expected.

When Harry’s name was called, there was a murmur among the students. They seemed to be whispering about Harry. The entire hall moved to get a good look at Harry before the Hat fell over his eyes.

The Hat spent almost a full minute on Harry’s head. When the Hats mouth opened, I heard the sound of everyone taking a full breath in tension for the Hat’s announcement. The Hats mouth opened wide and said;

“SLYTHERIN!”


	13. Chapter 13

Well. I had not expected that to work. I had thought that Harry would go into one of the other houses, Not Slytherin. But it seemed my manipulation of Harry had payed off. Hopefully being honest would count for something in the long run.

The entire Great Hall fell quiet. Even Professor McGonagall had fallen silent.

Harry nervously pulled the Hat off of his head and started walking to the right-most table. As he walked, applause broke out at the Slytherin table, and by the time he sat down, they were cheering and shouting.

Professor McGonagall hushed them quiet, then went on with the Sorting. Now there were only three people left to be sorted. When “Turpin, Lisa.” became a Ravenclaw, McGonagall called out “Weasley, Ronald!”

It was time.

I was being honest when I told Harry earlier that I did not know which house I would go into. The only house I did not want to go into was Gryffindor, because I think I would die of annoyance if I had to deal with my brothers for the rest of the year.

It seemed that no-one was paying attention to me as I walked to the stool that the hat was on, picked up the Hat, and sat down. Placing the hat on my head, it fell down over my eyes, and I heard a small voice in my ear.

“Hmm,” said the small voice. “Well, this is new. I have never seen a mind quite like yours. A gestalt of two minds, and…. What’s this? Really?”

What? I thought.

“Intriguing,” said the small voice. “It seems that one of your base personalities has memories of a story about…. Our world.”

Is there something wrong with that? I mentally asked the voice.

“No,” said the Hat after a moment. “I suppose there is not. Still, I feel I should warn you, this world does not completely conform to the world you remember.”

I know that already.

“Is seems you do,” the Hat replied. It paused for a moment.

“You have a cunning intellect, a great deal of bravery, and it seems you at least enjoy reading a good book. The only house I don’t see you fitting it is Hufflepuff, as it seems that you are loyal only when it benefits you, and you don’t like hard work. So where to put you?”

Put me somewhere that’s not Gryffindor, please.

“Oh?” replied the Hat “you are brave enough for that house, are you sure?”

Yes. I thought simply.

“Well, if you’re sure, better be SLYTHERIN!” that last word was shouted out to the rest of the hall. I stood up, put the hat back on the stool, and turned to face the rest of the school. Everyone looked surprised. My brothers over at the Gryffindor table looked shocked.

Like with Harry, the Slytherins only started clapping for me when I start walking to their table. The applause for me was not as good as it was for Harry. I sat down next to Harry and turned my attention back to the head table. There was only one student left, Blaise Zabini, who was quickly Sorted into Slytherin.

Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see us all here.

“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”

“Thank you!”

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. I laughed uproariously.

“Is he – a bit mad?” ask Harry.

“Of course he’s mad!” I said cheerfully. “But you know what they say! ‘There’s a fine line between genius and insanity’. Potatoes, Harry?”

Harry’s jaw dropped. The dishes in front of us were now plied with food, such as roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamp chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

“Quite right,” said Malfoy from across the table. “and I must say, Weasley, you are not quite what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” Harry asked curiously.

“That.” Malfoy deadpanned, pointing over my shoulder. Looking behind me, I noticed that the Twins were gorging on food, shoving it in their mouths until their cheeks looked ready to burst, and generally making a mess of themselves.

“Well….” I trailed off awkwardly. Harry snorted.

We all started piling our plates with food, and for a time, the table was silent as we all ate.

“A truly delicious looking meal, as always.” Said a hoarse, whispery voice. I jerked my head around to see a ghost hovering over my shoulder. It was the Bloody Baron.

“Why don’t you have some, then?” I asked, pretending to be clueless. The ghost stared at me.

“Ghosts can’t eat food, Weasley.” Came the haughty voice of Malfoy. “Don’t you know that?”

“No, actually,” I admitted freely. “Until an hour ago, I had never seen a ghost in my life.”

“Hmmp,” He replied. Looking at him, I noticed that he seemed to have his swagger back. I guess what had happened in the train must have rattled him a bit.

“At least your willing to admit it when you’re inferior to your betters.” He said snidely. “Are you really sure you deserve to be in Slytherin?”

There was a sudden hush among the first years who had sat around us. I could almost feel Harry tension level shoot up beside me. I grabbed his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, turning my attention fully upon Malfoy.

“In time, Malfoy.” I replied. “In time, you will see whether I am worthy of Slytherin.”

He sneered at me. I didn’t care and ignored him. I was not about to pander to whims of a child who had no right to question whether I was meant to be in Slytherin.

Hmmp’ing, he turned away from me and talked to a Firsty next to him.

\--

After dinner and dessert were over, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

“Ahem – Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.”

“First, I would like to welcome back Professor Quirrell, our former Muggles-Studies Professor, who has kindly accepted the post of Defense-Against-the-Dark-Arts Professor. Please give him a warm welcome back.”

There was a smattering of applause.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well remember that as well.”

Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley Twins.

“I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.”

“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

“As usual, we will have the standard medical checkups this weekend. You will receive the time of your checkup along with your schedule in the morning.”

I stared at Dumbledore. Since when did medical checkups happen? Bool had no memory of them. And I did not recall anyone telling Ron about them.

“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor, on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Harry laughed from beside me, but he was one of the few who did.

“He’s not serious?” he muttered to me.

“I don’t know,” I said, frowning.

“He’s barking mad, that’s what he is,” said Malfoy dismissively. “Why would they put something that could kill you in a school full of children?”

I didn’t like admitting it, but Malfoy had a point.

Malfoy was prevented from saying anything more by Dumbledore speaking

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Cried Dumbledore. I groaned along with the rest of the school.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and l long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twist itself, snakelike, into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

\--

The Slytherin first years followed a girl prefect (whose name I had forgotten as soon as I heard it) through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down into the dungeons. I was feeling full and tired, so I walked a bit sluggishly. I tried to remember the route we were taking, but I don’t think I succeeded.

The prefect eventually stopped at a wall that didn’t look any different than the other walls. “This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room,” Said the prefect, who had turned to look at us. “The password is Maiora Semper. Don’t forget it or you may be locked out for a while.”

The entrance had opened when she said the password, so she turned and walked in. following her, we all piled into the common room. It had a dungeon-like appearance, numerous moving paintings lining the walls, and silver furniture with green upholstery.

The Prefect directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and us boys through another. At the end of a long hall-way we found a door marked “First’s years”.

Seven four-poster beds hung with deep green, velvet curtains. Our trunks had already been brought down. Too tired to talk much, we all pulled on our pajamas and fell into bed.

I fell asleep quickly, and dreamed of learning about magic.


	14. Chapter 14

It was the sound of a loud horn blowing that woke us all up. I jerked up a foot in the air, before falling off my bed. From the sound of muffled groans and thumps to either side of me, it seemed that the other first year boys had not fared any better.  
  
“Are you out of your bloody mind?” bellowed Malfoy, who had jumped to his feet. “I was sleeping here!”  
  
Looking in the direction the sound had come from, I saw what looked like a fifth-year prefect boy holding what looked like an ancient bone horn that had intricate carvings on it. The fifth-year prefect was looking at Malfoy with a deeply unimpressed expression on his face. The prefect had long, wavy black hair, a pale face, and dark eyes.  
  
“My name is Ned Jugson” said the prefect. “Get dressed, Professor Snape is waiting for you in the common room.”  
  
I looked at the grandfather-clock that stood at the far wall. It was seven-fithteen. Groaning, I got up and put on my robes.  
  
\--  
  
I fell in step behind Harry as we walked up the long corridor that led to the common-room. We all piled into the common-room. I saw that the girls had been woken up as well, as they were walking into the common room as well.  
  
Looking toward the entrance, I noticed the six prefects from Slytherin house were standing in a row behind a thin, pale faced man in a white robe. The robe that the man was wearing looked like it was something you might find in a chemistry lab. The man himself had rough short black hair, dark eyes that lacked warmth, and a long, hooked nose.  
  
“Good morning,” said the man in a soft, contained voice. “I am Professor Snape, your head-of-house and the potions master here at Hogwarts.”  
  
I stared at him, eyes wide. This was Snape? He looked almost the opposite of what I had been expecting.  
  
“I had a few words that I wanted to impart to you before the start of the day,” said Professor Snape, his eyes trailing over the first years, before coming to a rest on Harry, who was standing next to me. “Do pay attention.”  
  
“First, due to… historical reasons, Slytherin house has garnered a reputation as a house of dark and evil wizards. Because of this, the dunderheads in the other houses often take this as an excuse to bother and bully the members of our house. For this reason, my first and final rule for the members of Slytherin house is that, outside of this common-room, any petty squabbles you have with your house-mates do not exist. You will present a united front to the other houses, and you _will_ help your house-mates if they are in need of it. _Do_ you understand me?”  
  
His eye’s flashed dangerously, and I could hear my fellow first-years gulping as we all nodded. Well, at least his personality seemed the same.  
  
“Good,” Said Snape. “Secondly, as first years, I don’t expect any of you to know your way around this school. For this reason, I have charged the sixth-year prefects with guiding you to class and answering any question you have. As the sixth-years do not have O.W.L’s or N.E.W.T’s, I expect that they should be available most of the time.”  
  
He had said that last part mostly over his shoulder. I noticed that two of the prefects were nodding at him.  
  
“However,” Snape said, turning his attention back to the first years. “that is not an excuse to ask them inane questions, or demand that they wait on you hand and foot.”  
  
His gaze fell on Draco, who swallowed and nodded.  
  
“Finally, I expect you all to be on your best behavior,” said Snape.” I do not want to hear that one of you got detention, or that you’re failing in class. Additionally, if you have a problem with one of your house-mates, you can settle it in the dueling ring, which is beyond that door. Do you understand?”  
  
He was indicating a door to our right. I looked over at it. I didn’t remember it being there last night, but I was tired, so I guess I didn’t see it.  
  
We all nodded at his words, and he gave a grim smile.  
  
“Good,” said Snape. “That is all.”  
  
Professor Snape’s gaze fell upon Harry, and he said “Potter, a word.”  
  
Harry walked forward nervously, and I started to follow him.  
  
“I don’t recall inviting you, Weasley,” snapped Snape.  
  
I nodded and stepped back.  
  
When Harry was standing in front of him, Snape pulled out his wand and cast a privacy charm, and the two of them gained a blurry look. I watch them talk for a moment, then Professor Snape turned and walked out of the common-room. The two prefects who had nodded at Snape earlier walked forward, while the other prefects followed Professor Snape.  
  
“What did he want?” I asked under my breath when Harry came back to stand next to me. Harry opened his mouth, but was interrupted by the prefects.  
  
“Hello, firsties,” said the boy prefect cheerfully. “My name is Varrick Blackmore, and this is Ceilla Parkinson. You can call me Varrick.”  
  
“Form up into a group,” said Ceilla. “We are going up to breakfast.”  
  
“But it’s only seven in the morning!” complained a dark-skinned boy, who I recognized as Blaise Zabini.  
  
“You better get used to it then,” said Varrick, still cheerful. “cause you will be up by Seven for the rest of your years at Hogwarts.”  
  
“What?!” cried Malfoy. “This is outrageous! When my father hears about this-”  
  
He was interrupted by Ceilla appearing in front of him. Startled, Malfoy looked up at her.  
  
“You think you can bypass the rules because of your father, do you?” asked Ceilla, who was pointing her wand at his face. “Well let me tell you something, _boy_. Your ‘father’ was up and dressed at Seven Forty-Five o’clock _sharp_ every day of his years at Hogwarts, and so will _you_ be.”  
  
“You wouldn’t dare.” Sneered Malfoy. But he was quivering in his shoes.  
  
“Try me” snapped Ceilla.  
  
I looked around, and noticed that the rest of Slytherin house was streaming into the common-room.  
  
After a momentary staring contest, Malfoy sullenly looked away. Smirking, Ceilla turned and walked back to stand next to Varrick.  
  
“Any other challengers?” asked Varrick, who sounded bored. When no one replied he said “Good.”  
  
They turned and walked out of the common-room, and together the rest of Slytherin house followed them.


	15. Chapter 15

As we walked along with Slytherin house up to the Great Hall, I tried to remember the route we were taking. It was kind of difficult, because there were few distinguishing landmarks to follow.  
  
“What did Snape want?” I asked Harry again under my breath.  
  
“He said that Dumbledore wanted to meet with me after my last class today,” replied Harry, who was frowning. “He said to go to Dumbledore’s office.”  
  
“Did he say why?” I asked, also frowning.  
  
“No,” said Harry. “Just that Dumbledore wanted to meet with me.”  
  
“Hmm,” I murmured thoughtfully. “Did Snape tell you how you’re supposed to get to Dumbledore’s office?”  
  
“He said Varrick would take me,” replied Harry.  
  
“Would you like for me to come along, as moral support?” I said. Harry smiled.  
  
“Yeah, that’d be nice.” He said.  
  
\--  
  
As the Slytherins emerged into the Great Hall, I noticed that there were only a few members of other houses present. No Hufflepuff’s were here yet, there was a small crowd of Ravenclaw’s, and only a single Gryffindor.  
  
Unfortunately, that Gryffindor was Percy, and when he spotted the Slytherin’s walking into the Great Hall, he started walking towards us. The prefects must have noticed this, because one of them, a seventh-year, parted from the Slytherin crowd and walked up to talk to him. The rest of the Slytherins, including me, continued walking to the Slytherin table.  
  
As we sat down to eat, I watched Percy and the seventh-year prefect talk. They seemed to be conversing cordially, and after a minute the seventh-year prefect turned and walked away toward the Slytherin table.  
  
“Your brother wishes to talk to you,” said the seventh-year prefect to me after he reached me.  
  
“OK.” I said and stood up.  
  
“Would you like a prefect to escort you?” asked the prefect. I blinked.  
  
“You would do that?” I said in surprise.  
  
“Of course,” said the prefect. “Slytherin’s stick together. Like Professor Snape said.”  
  
“Oh. No I think I will be fine.” I said as I walked pass the prefect.  
  
“Very well,” said the prefect. “Let me know if he does anything… untoward.”  
  
\--  
  
“I was told you wanted to talk to me?” I said when I got into speaking range.  
  
“Yes,” said Percy. “One moment, let me cast a privacy charm.”  
  
I nodded and watched as he cast the charm. Percy suddenly gripped me in a warm, tight hug. After a moment I realized that he was crying.  
  
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. He loosened his hug so that he could look at me. His face was red and his eyes were watery.  
  
“Oh Ron,” He sighed. “I was worried about you all night. I was worried that the Slytherin’s would hurt you. I worried that I would see you black and bloody when you came in with the Slytherin’s this morning.”  
  
I admit that I was a bit touched at his words. I had not known what my family’s reaction would be, but I had hoped that it would be at least neutral.  
  
“It’s ok,” I said. “I’m fine, the Slytherins didn’t do anything. I think I will be happy in that house. To be honest, I was worried would your reactions would.”  
  
Percy gave me a watery smile.  
  
“I… I think it will be ok,” he said. “I will send a letter to mother and father, don’t worry. I think they will be surprised but supportive.”  
  
He suddenly looked a bit more serious.  
  
“But Ronald,” he said. “are you sure you will be ok in Slytherin?”  
  
“You do realize that all those horror stories Dad told us were just stories, right?” I asked Percy. He suddenly looked embarrassed, and rubbed his head nervously.  
  
“Well…”  
  
“Its ok,” I said. “I won’t tell anyone.”  
  
Percy looked relieved.  
  
“Well,” he said. “if you’re sure…”  
  
“I am.”  
  
“Very well,” Percy said. “but if anything happens, you tell me, understand?”  
  
“OK” I said, knowing I probably wouldn’t, because of what Snape had said about inter-house politics. Percy must have seen something in my expression, because he gained a knowing look on his face.  
  
“I know all about Slytherin politics,” He said. “Family, and your safety, comes first. Understand me?”  
  
I smiled and said “Very well.”


	16. Chapter 16

“What did your brother want?” asked Harry curiously as I sat back down next to him.  
  
“Nothing important,” I said. “He was just concerned about me, wanted to make sure I was ok and happy.”  
  
“Oh, ok.” Said Harry.  
  
At that moment, Professor Snape entered the Great Hall, and started passing out our schedules.  
  
“Hmm,” I said thought fully as I peered over mine. “It seems we have Charms and Transfiguration this morning. And double History in the afternoon.”  
  
I frowned. It seemed that History was taught by someone I did not recognize, a person called Professor Regañón.  
  
Not much of note happened at first as we ate breakfast. I guess that all the Slytherin first years were still tired from waking up earlier than they were used to. In fact, I think only I and Harry were the ones who were not as tired, so we chatted about what classes we were looking forward to, speculated on what Dumbledore planned on talking to Harry about, and other inane things that were irrelevant to the larger scheme of things.  
  
Members of the other houses trickled in and out of the Great hall as breakfast time came and went, but not one member of Slytherin house got up and left. When Malfoy tried to, Varrick, who had sat next to us along with Ceilla, had got up and ushered Malfoy to sit down again.  
  
“Slytherin house eats all of their meals together,” said Varrick. “We come in together, we leave together.”  
  
“Why?” I asked him.  
  
“It makes us look united,” Said Varrick. “When the other houses look at us, they don’t see small groups of students sitting apart from each other, they see a single, united front. It makes them less likely to bother us. Strength in numbers and all that.”  
  
“Why are you so worried about the other houses think of us?” asked Harry curiously.  
  
“Because Slytherin house has had a real problem with bullies from the other houses in the past” said Ceilla. “Especially from Gryffindor’s.”  
  
“There used to be lot of schisms in Slytherin house,” said Varrick. “People tended to congregate into groups, often with a mutual dislike of each other.”  
  
“The other houses noticed this,” said Ceilla. “and some, particularly Gryffindors, used this to pick on Slytherins that were not in a pack, or not part of a group, using the excuse that ‘all Slytherins are evil’ to morally justify their actions.”  
  
“Then Snape became our head-of-house,” said Varrick. “He created the rule that all Slytherin’s stick together, regardless of their disagreements or dislike. He was really good at enforcing the rule, by handing anyone who dared to disobey harsh detentions. He was really good at figuring out who obeyed the rules, and who didn’t.”  
  
“There were rumors that he had been bullied during his time at Hogwarts,” said Ceilla. “They said that a Gryffindor had almost killed him once. No one knows if it is true or not.”  
  
Harry looked rather stricken, his face had turned white.  
  
“Are they all like that in Gryffindor?” I asked.  
  
“I don’t think so, probably just a few bad eggs,” replied Varrick. “Snape’s rule really helped cut down on the bullying. But it was not until Phillipus Fawley, who was Head Prefect, that we started eating all of our meals together.”  
  
“Who was that?” asked Harry.  
  
“Head Prefect?” I asked at the same time.  
  
Varrick looked at us with a raised eyebrow.  
  
“Phillipus Fawley was a Slytherin who became Head Prefect three years after Snape became head-of-house,” he said to Harry, before turning his head to look at me. “and the Head Prefect is the Prefect elected to be head of the Slytherin prefects.”  
  
“Elected?” I asked with interest.  
  
“Oh right. You’re firsties, you wouldn’t know.” Said Varrick. “In Slytherin, generally speaking, all prefects are elected from candidates that are nominated by Professor Snape. Only Professor Snape can nominate them.”  
  
“Slytherin prefects have to run for election every year,” added Ceilla. “It’s possible for an incumbent to be replaced.”  
  
“The Head Prefect runs for election after the general prefect election is over in February,” continued Varrick. “He or she is usually elected in June. Only sixth years can run.”  
  
“What kind of responsibilities and powers do prefects have in Slytherin house?” I asked, really fascinated.  
  
“The usual things, like patrolling the corridors and giving students detention if they are out of line,” said Ceilla.  
  
“The Head Prefect has the power to set some policy, though,” said Varrick. “For example, he or she determines when everyone wakes up, or if everyone has to sit at meals together.”  
  
“No one has dared change that policy since Phillipus, though,” added Ceilla. “Everyone agrees that Seven-Forty-Five is early enough. And no-one wants to look weak to the Gryffindor’s.”  
  
“The Head Prefect also gets to decide certain things,” said Varrick. “such as what the password is, or where everyone gets to sit in the common-room. He or she often reserves the best seats next to the fire-place for his or her supporters.”  
  
“Why would they have Elections in the first place?” asked a curious Blaise Zabini, who looked a bit more awake.  
  
I noticed that the rest of the first years were paying attention to our conversation with rapt interest. Varrick and Ceilla looked at each-other.  
  
“I think it’s because it’s good training for Slytherins when they enter the real world,” said Varrick.  
  
“A lot of Slytherins come from political families,” said Ceilla. “It’s to help prepare them for when they enter politics in the Wizengamot or the Ministry of Magic.”  
  
I nodded. That made sense.  
  
When 8:30 o’clock came, the sixth year prefects stood up and looked at us first years.  
  
“OK, firsties!” said Varrick, his cheerful tone back. “It’s time to go to class!”  
  
“Come along now,” said Ceilla, who seemed to be in a permanently surly mood. “Form up into a line. We will return to the Slytherin dorms so that you can get your books.”  
  
We did as they commanded, and followed them out of the Great Hall.  
  
Looking behind me, I noticed the other prefects directing the rest of Slytherin house to do the same.


	17. Chapter 17

I thought about what we had learned today as I and Harry followed Varrick to Dumbledore’s office. Charms and Transfiguration had gone more or less just how I had expected.  
  
In Charms, we learned that most of the magic we were going to do involved something called Words of Power. Apparently, Words of Power were created by wizard who were trained to do so by using rituals to imprint the Words of Power onto the fabric of reality. After being imprinted, if you used the right wand motions and incantation, the Word of Power would be accessed, and would create the effect you desired on reality.  
  
But it was not as simple as saying funny words and waving your wand around. We had to learn complex spell formulae and wand motion notation, as well as how to properly enunciate incantations. Apparently, you actually had to know how the spell worked to use it. When Professor Flitwick handed out reference books on Spell formulae notation, I looked inside briefly and noticed that spell formulae looked like a cross between chemistry formulae and various geometric shapes.  
  
In Transfiguration, we learned things like Flamel’s Law of Magical Essence, Gamp’s law of Elemental Transfiguration, and Gamp’s Complexity Theorem, and spent the entire class writing notes on them.  
  
It was a man known as Hephaestus Gamp (1869-1942) who was the founder of modern Transfiguration. According to Professor McGonagall, it was Gamp’s Complexity Theorem (which stated that transfiguring something that was of low complexity to high complexity was more difficult than transfiguring things of similar complexity, and vise-versa) that we would spend most of our time studying, even in N.E.W.T years.  
  
History was different, however. Instead of being taught by a ghost of the name Binn’s, we were taught by a Spanish man called Professor Regañón. Professor Regañón was passionate about his subject and seemed like a good teacher, at first. But as the class went on, I noticed that he seemed to not know how to interact with children, much less how to teach them. Whenever someone asked him a question, he froze up and stuttered for a moment. He avoided making eye contact, and spent most of his time with his nose in a book and lecturing us. At least his voice was clear and the subject matter was interesting. We got to learn about ancient magical Mesopotamia, and the Epic of Gilgamesh, magical edition.  
  
\--  
  
Stopping in front of a large, ugly gargoyle, Varrick said “Blood pops.”  
  
The gargoyle came to life and stepped aside. Now revealed was a short corridor that led to a moving circular staircase. We all stepped inside and started moving up the staircase. Reaching a gleaming oak door with a brass doorknob and knocker in the shape of a griffin, Varrick knocked the knocker.  
  
“Come in,” came the voice of Dumbledore.  
  
Varrick opened the door and we all walked in.  
  
Dumbledore’s office was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises, a number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old head masters and head mistresses, all of whom were snoozing gently in their frames. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and seated behind it was the man himself, Albus Dumbledore, who was sitting in a high chair.  
  
Next to Dumbledore was standing a man with short, curly blond hair, a kind looking face, and what looked like an official-looking set of black robes, and had a badge labeled _DCP_ in gold letters on his left breast.  
  
“Stan? What are you doing here?” asked Harry when he caught sight of the man.  
  
“Ah, hello Harry,” said the blond man, whose name was Stan I guess. “I am here as your representative from the Department of Child Protection.”  
  
 _What?_ I thought. _Since when was there a Dept. of Child Protection?_  
  
“Hello, Mr. Potter,” said Dumbledore in a kindly tone, before turning to look at me. “Mr. Weasley? I don’t recall inviting you here?”  
  
“I'm here as moral support,” I replied. “It’s not often that you get called up to the headmaster’s office.”  
  
“Quite right,” replied Dumbledore. “And it warms my heart that Mr. Potter has such a loyal friend.”  
  
“But you are not in trouble, Mr. Potter,” He said after looking at Harry. “and what we have to discuss is of a… sensitive nature that involves your family. You will have to choose whether you would like for Mr. Weasley to remain.”  
  
Harry looked from Dumbledore and Stan, looking rather hesitant.  
  
“It's ok, Harry,” I said while looking down at him with an understanding smile on my face. “I won’t mind if you decide to do this privately.”  
  
“No, its fine.” He said after looking at me for a moment. He then turned to Dumbledore and said more firmly “I want Ron to stay here.”  
  
“Very well. Mr. Blackmore, you are dismissed,” said Dumbledore, who then rose a hand to indicate a door to our left. “Shall we go up to my sitting room?”  
  
Varrick bowed, then left. We all followed Dumbledore into his sitting room, which looked rather like his office, but without the instruments. Harry and I sat on a rather gorgeous mahogany sofa with scarlet upholstery, while Dumbledore and Stan settled down into mahogany chairs with the same color upholstery. Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and with a quiet crack, a tray with porcelain tea cups, a porcelain tea pot that had steam rising from it, and a silver plate with biscuits appeared on the table in front of us. Harry jumped in surprise, but he was the only one.  
  
“Tea?” asked Dumbledore.  
  
“Please,” I said. I held up a tea cup and Dumbledore poured some tea in it. After everyone got some tea, Dumbledore fixed Harry with his gaze.  
  
“So, Harry… may I call you Harry?” said Dumbledore. Harry nodded.  
  
“I imagine you are wondering why I called you up to my office?” asked Dumbledore.  
  
“Yes, that and… are you a wizard?” Harry asked, looking at Stan.  
  
“Yes, Harry. I am,” said Stan.  
  
“Why did you never tell me?” asked Harry.  
  
“Ah,” said Dumbledore. “I believe that is my fault.”  
  
Harry looked at Dumbledore questioningly.  
  
“Harry,” Dumbledore said. “I know that Hagrid told you that Voldemort killed your parents, but did he ever tell you why? Or why you were placed with your aunt and uncle?”  
  
I tried to keep my surprise off of my face. Dumbledore was going to tell Harry about that now? Not later?  
  
“No,” said Harry. “But I wondered.”  
  
“Let’s start with why you were placed with your aunt and uncle,” said Stan, who was looking at Dumbledore. “as that is more relevant to our current situation.”  
  
“Ah, yes.” Said Dumbledore who then looked at Harry with a more serious expression. “Ten years ago, your family was attacked, and your parents were killed by Voldemort. Following the attack, the responsibility of executing your family’s account and last will and testament fell to me, as all of the other candidates were either dead or indisposed. My original intent was to place you with one of the candidates listed in the will, but, well. All of those candidates were either dead or indisposed as well.”  
  
“When I realized this, I decided to place you with a wizarding family of good repute that I knew would take good care of you, but then something awful happened.”  
  
“What?” asked both me and Harry.  
  
“You became a person of interest.” Said Dumbledore, who was looking at Harry. “Almost everyone in the Wizarding World of Great Britain and Ireland became interested in you.”  
  
“What does that have to do with anything?” asked Harry, who was frowning.  
  
“Everything,” said Dumbledore. “because Voldemort’s followers were interested in you too. Voldemort’s followers, despite not having their leader to guide them, were still politically powerful, and they used all of their political might to try and wrest you from my arms. Fortunately, the Minister of Magic of the time laid down the law and said that as executor of your Family’s account, who you lived with was up to me.”  
  
“Really?” I asked. “Who was the Minister of the time?”  
  
I had asked because, from what Bool had read in the books, the Ministry had seemed rather incompetent. What Dumbledore said next shattered the illusion that I knew anything about the world I had found myself in.  
  
“Oh, yes,” said Dumbledore. “he was a former student of mine. His name was Tom Riddle.”


	18. Chapter 18

>   
>  _What. What!_
> 
> My brain must have short-circuited, because my mind was perfectly blank for a few moments. My face must not have reacted, for Dumbledore continued on, not noticing my inner turmoil.
> 
> “He retired a year after the war’s end.” Said Dumbledore. “He actually teaches the dark arts theory elective here at Hogwarts now. Professor Riddle is quite brilliant if I do say so myself.”
> 
> I didn’t think my brain could take much more of this. Tom Riddle had been Minister of Magic _during_ the war, and now he was teaching the _dark_ arts at Hogwarts. Brilliant.
> 
> “But as I was saying,” Dumbledore said, turning his attention back to Harry. “the Minister of Magic laid down the law and Voldemort’s followers were prevented from using legal means of acquiring you. However, I knew that the law would not stop them from trying to get you. There were powerful sorcerers who followed Voldemort, and I knew that they had many magical methods they could use to get around the protections I could offer.”
> 
> It was at this point that I started paying attention again.
> 
> “Sorcerers?” I asked. “Don’t you mean wizards?”
> 
> “No,” said Dumbledore. “Sorcerers are different.”
> 
> “How?” I asked. Dumbledore gazed at me over his half-moon spectacles, a smile on his face.
> 
> “You are quite the inquisitive one, aren’t you, Mr. Weasley?” He asked in a warm tone of voice.
> 
> “Uh…” I could feel my face heating up. Dumbledore laughed. It was a pleasant sound.
> 
> “There is nothing wrong with that,” said Dumbledore, who was still smiling. “I am gratified to know that there are still some who enjoy learning. Harry is quite lucky to have a friend such as you.”
> 
> “But I digress,” he said. “Sorcerers are Wizards or Witches who have trained in the art of occlumency to the point where they have complete control over their mind, body, soul, and magic. They are masters over a kind of magic known as Will magic.”
> 
> “What make them so powerful?” asked Harry.
> 
> “Their extraordinary control over their magic,” said Dumbledore. “Sorcerers by their very nature are very difficult to control. Most known methods used to control normal Witches and Wizards will most likely not work on Sorcerers. They cannot be bound with oaths, because their innate understanding of their own magic means that they can simply snap the bindings. They ca-”
> 
> “Wait,” I said. “Forgive me, Professor Dumbledore, could you educate us on how oaths normally work?”
> 
> “There are two oaths that are commonly used,” said Dumbledore, who I noticed was looking a bit displeased at being interrupted. “The Unbreakable Vow, and the Magical Oath. In the case of the Unbreakable Vow, it requires three people. The bonder, The oathmaker, and the oathkeeper. The oathmaker creates the oath, the oathkeeper accepts the oath, and the bonder binds the oathmaker and the oathkeeper together. If the oathkeeper breaks the oath, they die.”
> 
> “The Magical Oath is a lot simpler. When making a Magical Oath, the oathkeeper swears upon a possession, usually something they own, while. To make the oath, the oathmaker crosses their wand with the oathkeeper. If the oathkeeper breaks the oath, they lose the possession they swore upon. In most cases the oath maker gains the possession by right of magic.”
> 
> “In both cases, the oath relies upon the oathkeeper’s magic to keep the oath. In the case of a Sorcerer, they can modify their own magic to snap the bond binding them to the oath, allowing them to break it freely.”
> 
> “But getting back to the subject of Sorcerers,” said Dumbledore. “trapping them with most known magical methods is hard, and killing them is even harder. There is only one surefire way to kill them but fortunately, or unfortunately depending on your point of view, it is illegal.”
> 
> “How?” asked Harry and I at the same time.
> 
> “The Killing Curse,” said Dumbledore. “It was specifically designed to kill Sorcerers. There is only one person who has ever survived the Killing Curse, and he is sitting on the sofa right now, in front of me.”
> 
> Harry’s face turned white. No one spoke for several minutes.
> 
> “Wow, I had no idea I survived the Killing Curse,” I said cheerfully after a moment. That broke the tension, and everyone laughed.
> 
> “Ah, thank you Mr. Weasley,” said Dumbledore after a moment. “Where was I?”
> 
> “Oh, yes.” He said after thinking for a moment, before turning to look at Harry. “As you might understand now, Sorcerer’s are very powerful, and there so few protections from them that I can count them on one hand.”
> 
> “After considering the options available, I eventually decided to use Blood wards, the most powerful protection that I could use. The Blood wards protect you by-”
> 
> “Wait. Wait,” interrupted Harry. “When you say that I’m the only survivor of the Killing Curse, what did you mean by that? How did I survive it?”
> 
> “Ah. I suppose I should have started with that,” said Dumbledore. He then looked at Harry quite seriously. “Your mother died to save you. Your mother loved you deeply, such that her love left its own mark. To have been loved as much as your mother loved you, even now that she is gone, gave you protection such that even Voldemort could not touch you. When you mother died, her protection repelled his curse, and he vanished.”
> 
> “My mum died… to protect me?” Harry eyes were watery, and I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a warm hug. He stiffened, but them relaxed into my arms, hugging me back. I could hear him crying into my shoulder. After a few minutes, he released the hug, and turned back to look at Dumbledore.
> 
> “Yes.” He said solemnly. “I understand that this may be difficult to hear, but what I have told you is something that you _need_ to know.”
> 
> “No, I understand,” said Harry.
> 
> “Very well,” said Dumbledore. “As I was saying, you mother gave you protection, but even I was dealing with trying to find a home for you, her protection was fading. I suspect that if I had done nothing, it would have been gone in under a year. However, I determined that your mother’s blood protection could be extended, and used to protect you from Voldemort’s followers.”
> 
> “How?” asked Harry.
> 
> “By sending you to a place where your mother’s blood was still alive.”
> 
> “You mean his relatives.” I stated.
> 
> “Precisely,” said Dumbledore. “By sending you to live with your relatives, Harry, I could weave a powerful enchantment using your mother’s protection that would not only protect you from Voldemort, but would also make impossible for anyone who wished you ill to find you or your relatives.”
> 
> “However, I knew that it was likely that, if given a chance, your relatives would not treat you well. Therefore, I decided the involve the Ministry Dept. of Child Protection, as I knew I would not be able to visit as much as I would need to, due to all of my responsibilities. I knew that you would be safe in their hands, due to the Blood wards.”
> 
> “Oh,” said Harry. “But wait. You said that my mum died to save me from Voldemort, but why did he want to kill me in the first place?”
> 
> I looked from Harry to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had said he would tell Harry, but was he really going to? If I remembered correctly, Dumbledore had been reluctant to do so in the original tales. But then again, the information about Tom Riddle had told me that any information I thought I had did not exist.
> 
> “Ah, yes.” Said Dumbledore seriously. He gave a great sigh.
> 
> “the reason Voldemort wanted to kill has a lot to do with your father, Harry.”
> 
> “My father?” asked Harry.
> 
> “Yes. Your Father, James Potter, was considered one of the very few that Voldemort ever feared.”
> 
>  


	19. Chapter 19

“Voldemort feared my father?” asked Harry, who’s expression looked a little worn. I imagine that the past hour, with all its revelations, must have pushed him beyond shock, as if anything else that came out of Dumbledore’s mouth would just be par for the course. Little did I know that what Dumbledore was about to say would have an impact that would last for the rest of my years at Hogwarts, and perhaps the rest of my life in this world too.  
  
Dumbledore suddenly looked tired and old. He gazed at Harry with a sad expression.  
  
“Harry,” He said, his voice echoing a bone-deep weariness. “What I’m about to tell you is something that I would have never told you if I could have avoided it.”  
  
“But, unfortunately, it is something that you must know,” Dumbledore continued. “Lest at some future point you make a mistake that cost you your life, or the lives of those you hold dear.”  
  
“But first, you must be sure,” He said. “this information is not for the faint of heart. You must to certain that you want to hear it now, and not later. We can delay at least until the end of your first year.”  
  
“No,” said Harry, who suddenly looked scared. I took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, giving him a comforting smile. He looked at me, and tried to put on a brave face.  
  
“No, I-I think it would be better if I heard what you have to say now instead of later.” He said to Dumbledore, his voice wavering slightly.  
  
“Very well,” said Dumbledore in a resigned voice. “But it’s getting a little bit late. Why don’t I have the cooks bring up some food, and we can have a meal to settle our stomachs?”  
  
“That sounds fine to me,” Harry, and I nodded my assent.  
  
Dumbledore nodded, and then called out, “Tippy?”  
  
With a quiet crack, a small house elf appeared, wearing a purple towel with the Hogwarts crest on it.  
  
“Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir?” asked the house elf, who was looking at Dumbledore quizzically.  
  
“Good evening, Tippy,” said Dumbledore. “could you bring my guests and I some sandwiches? I believe we may be late for dinner.”  
  
The house elf, Tippy, simply nodded at Dumbledore, then disappeared with another quiet crack. A moment later, a large plate filled to the brim with many sandwiches of many different kinds appeared on the table in front of us. My stomach growled, and I realized that my last meal had been at least 6 hours ago.  
  
\--  
  
I was tense. The past hour had been full of revelations for me, from the knowledge of Tom Riddle possible not being Voldemort, to knowing things like sorcerer’s existed. But part of me suspected that whatever Dumbledore would tell us could be a game changer in its own right. After all, the idea that Voldemort had feared James was unprecedented, something I would never have considered in a million years. But then again, the same could be said for the idea that Tom Riddle and Voldemort might not be one and the same. I supposed that I should thank my lucky stars that I was privy to this information.  
  
My thoughts where interrupted by Dumbledore, who had cleared his throat.  
  
“Shall we begin?” he asked Harry, who nodded. Harry looked like he had taken the time to process earlier revelations.  
  
“Very well,” said Dumbledore, who then looked up and to the left, as if trying to recall what to say. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.”  
  
“The thing is, Harry, that your Father has a history with Voldemort.”  
  
“A history?” asked Harry, who looked curious.  
  
“Yes,” said Dumbledore. “It’s related to the larger history of the war.”  
  
“In the early years of the war, many families desired to remain neutral in the conflict. To this end, they sighed an legal contract with Voldemort. So long as they paid Voldemort a certain amount of money every year, he would leave them alone, and would not force the neutral families the join him and fight in the war.”  
  
“Didn’t you just say that Sorcerer’s couldn’t be magically bound to an oath or contract?” I asked.  
  
“It wasn’t a Magical contract, but legal one,” said Dumbledore. “There is a difference. In this case, I assume that Voldemort signed the contracts with the knowledge that if he failed to uphold his end of the bargain, then the neutrals would rise up against him, and he would have a harder war on his hands.”  
  
“However, It later came out that Voldemort had been using magical means to subvert individual neutral families without the others knowing, forcing them to fight for him. This went on for nearly 7 years without anyone catching on. It was one of the bigger mysteries of the war, how Voldemort seemed to be getting more people to fight for him while his followers seemed to keep dying left and right. The point, however, is that the Potter Family, your family Harry, was one of the families who originally signed the contract.”  
  
I suddenly felt my gut clench. I abruptly had a very horrible idea of where this was going.  
  
“It was after your father’s fifth year at Hogwarts that Voldemort went to his house with the intention of forcing your father and his parents to fight for him. Your grandparents immediately knew what was happening the moment Voldemort showed up at their doorstep, and locked the young James Potter away in a heavily warded room. They fought valiantly against Voldemort, but in the end, were forced to submit to his will.”  
  
“Against their will, they showed Voldemort the room that James was in, and Voldemort broke the wards. Like his parents, James was forced to submit to Voldemort’s will as well. Along with his parents, James was branded with the dark mark, and for the rest of the summer, was forced to do Voldemort’s bidding.”  
  
Dumbledore stopped talking. I was confused for a moment, then I looked at Harry. Harry was as white as a sheets.  
  
“Harry,” said Dumbledore softly. “are you alright?”  
  
Harry simply stared at Dumbledore, his face still white. Minutes passed.  
  
“We can take a break for a moment, if you want,” said Dumbledore.  
  
“O-ok,” said Harry after a moment. I suddenly let out a breath I had not realized that I had been holding.  
  
“Wow,” I said quietly. “that’s…” I wiped away some sweat on my forehead.  
  
Harry remained quiet, his face pensive.


	20. Chapter 20

With a quiet crack, a small plate with bars of chocolate appeared on the table in front of us. I jumped slightly at the sound. Dumbledore looked at the plate with a mildly bemused expression on his face.

“Thank you, Tippy,” He murmured into the air, before looking at Harry. “Eat one, Harry, you will feel better afterward.”

Harry and I both grabbed a bar. I bit a large chunk out of mine, before suddenly remembering my resolution not to eat anything that Dumbledore fed me.

Uh-oh.

“Um, could I use the loo for a moment?” I asked hesitantly. Dumbledore looked at me, nonplussed.

“Certainly, Mr. Weasley,” He said, before pointing his finger to a corridor that led off the sitting room. “You will find it down that corridor.”

Muttering my thanks, I got up and went to the loo. If I remembered correctly, it usually took a few minutes for potions to work, they had to be digested first. Inducing vomiting was relatively easy, all I had to do was stick my fore-finger down my throat, my gag-reflex did the rest. I did my best to be quiet while vomiting up the chocolate and the meal I had just eaten.

I walked out to the sight of Harry eating his second Chocolate bar, while Dumbledore and Stan seemed to be having a minor discussion behind a privacy charm.

“What’s going on?” I asked Harry.

“Don’t know,” said Harry, who seemed to look much better.

They talked for a few minutes, then the privacy charm came down and Dumbledore spoke.

“Harry, its seems that we have a problem,” he said. “Mr. Kubrik is on a tight schedule, and we have a number of issues that need to be resolved regarding your custody and your family accounts. I had hoped tell you everything about your history and family, particularly your father, before Mr. Kubrik had to leave, but it seems that will have to wait until after he is gone.”

Dumbledore then looked at me.

“Unfortunately, you cannot be present for these proceedings, Mr. Weasley,” He continued. “So I’m afraid you will have to be excused.”

“May I ask why?” I asked.

“Legal reasons,” said Stan.

I frowned. I didn’t like it, but what choice did I have? Technically, I was not supposed to be here. I had only tagged along, presumably for Harry’s moral support, but really because I had wanted to stay in the loop on what was going on between Harry and Dumbledore. Therefore, I had no excuse to stay.

“One thing,” I said, holding up my fore-finger. “I’m not sure I can find the Great Hall from here.”

“Tippy will take you,” said Dumbledore. Tippy appeared beside me, and held up her hand.

“Ok,” I said. “See you later Harry.”

With a quiet crack, we were gone.

\--

Apparation was one of the most unpleasant things I have ever experienced. Like described in the books, it felt like being squeezed through a rubber tube a nanometer in diameter. I appeared in the entrance hall and sucked air into my lungs like I had never taken a breath in my life.

After a few moments of gasping for air, I stood up properly and looked at my watch. It was currently 6:15 o’clock. Varrick had told me that the Slytherin’s dinner time was from 6:00 to 6:30, so the house should still be at dinner.

Speaking of Varrick, he and Ceilla were walking toward me. I assume they had been waiting for Harry and I.

“Where’s Potter?” demanded Ceilla as they came to a rest in front of me.

“He’s still with Dumbledore,” I said. “I don’t think he will be coming anytime soon, sorry.”

Ceilla had an immensely annoyed look on her face, while I noticed Varrick appeared to be toting a book at his side.

“Babysitting Firsties all day wasn’t what I signed up for,” she complained.

“Don’t look at me,” said Varrick, a bemused expression on his face. “I didn’t vote for you.”

Ceilla gave an annoyed huff, before looking at me.

“Well, seeing as dinner’s still on,” she said. “Go join the rest of the Firsties.”

I nodded and did as they said.

\--

Sitting down across from Malfoy, I piled my plate with food.

“Where have you been, Weasley?” asked Malfoy, a sneer on his face.

“None of your business,” I said as I started eating.

“Where’s Potter?” He asked.

“That… is also none of your business,” I said, ignoring him. I was looking up at the high table where the teachers sat, the thought that Tom Riddle could be sitting there running through my mind.

“You’ll change your tune when I tell the prefects you’ve been missing,” I heard Malfoy say. “All Slytherin’s are supposed to be in the Great Hall at six o’clock, what do you think the Head Prefect will say when you weren’t present?”

I turned to stare at Malfoy. Was he really that dense? Or maybe he was just deaf. Harry had said to me in a normal tone of voice that he was going to see Dumbledore, because Dumbledore requested it. I had asked to tag along and Harry said yes, all within earshot of the other first years. I had thought that Draco would have heard us.

“You do that,” I deadpanned, and turned my attention back to the head table.

“Hmmph, I should have known you Weasleys were too stupid to know how to follow rules,” Malfoy sniffed.

“Right, and I should have known that you Malfoys were too desperate for attention to know when you’re being ignored.” I said sarcastically.

Malfoy glared at me furiously, but was interrupted before he could retort.

“Tone it down you two,” said Ned Jugson, who was about 6 seats down from us. “No arguing outside of the Common room.”

Malfoy glared at me for the rest of the meal. I ignored him.

In-between bites of food, I would look up at the high table, trying to figure out which one was Tom Riddle. There seemed to be a lot more teachers than Bool’s memories told me. I counted 33 in all, a lot more than I had been expecting.

Then, I finally spotted him. a dark haired man with a gray rim around his temples. He had dark eyes and wore black robes. His youthful face had a cool air about it, and I wondered if it was really him. After all, if Bool’s memories were correct, Tom Riddle would be over 60 years old. Then again, Bool’s memories had been wrong before, so what did I really know?

I was prevented from putting further thought into it by the prefects ushering us up from the table. The whole of Slytherin house stood up, and walked out, the sound of our many feet reverberating through the hall.

\--

I made the decision not to bug Harry about whatever he would learn in Dumbledore’s office, figuring that when he was ready, he would tell me. With that in mind, I decided to get started on my history essay while waiting for him return. Having gathered my supplies, I sat down at an unoccupied table, intending to get started right away. Unfortunately, I was interrupted by Malfoy and his goons.

“So, you think you’re better than me, huh, Weasley?” he said, slamming his hand on the table before me. I looked up and noticed that he had an infuriated look on his face. I also noticed Crabbe and Goyle, who had their arms crossed, and were trying to look tough with mean expressions on their faces, but instead looked like two eleven year-olds with constipation.

“No, Malfoy,” I deadpanned. “I simply don’t care about you. There is a difference.”

Malfoy, if anything, looked even more infuriated. He drew his wand. I drew mine.

“Ok, that’s enough you two,” said a prefect, who had spotted our budding confrontation. I looked over at her, and noticed that she was a seventh year.

“If you two have a problem, take it to the dueling ring,” said the prefect. “otherwise shake hands and make up. Trust me, you don’t want me to have to report this to Professor Snape.”

“Well, what’s it going to be, Malfoy?” I asked him, raising both my wand and my hand.

He glared at me, then briefly grabbed my hand and gave it a short shake. He then turned and departed, his crones following him.

I sat down and did my history essay.

\--

Varrick and Ceilla returned with Harry in tow half an hour later. Instead of coming to me, Harry went straight to the dormitories. I noticed He had tear streaks on his face. Whatever Dumbledore had told him must have been harsh.

I gathered up my supplies and followed him to the dorms. When I entered the room, I heard the faint sound of crying from Harry’s four-poster, which had the curtain drawn.

I put away my supplies and sat down on my bed that was next to his.

“Harry,” I said. “Are you ok?”

The crying stopped.

“Im fine,” came the muffled voice of Harry.

“Ok,” I said. “Harry, I just want you to know, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, ok?”

There was no reply.

It was only after I put my PJ’s on and got into bed that I heard a quiet voice from Harry’s four-poster say:

“Thanks, Ron.”


	21. Chapter 21

“What have we got today?” asked Harry as I sat down next to him. I pulled out my schedule and peered over it.  
  
“Double-Potions with the Gryffindors,” I said. “They say Snape is harsh but fair, like McGonagall. We’ll get to see if that’s true.”  
  
The past week had been one of the most interesting weeks of my life. Harry’s fame and fan club followed him everywhere he went, only to be shooed off by the prefects escorting us. Varrick and Ceilla took the time to teach us how to find our way around the school, which was nice of them, because I felt it would have taken a life time otherwise.  
  
There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on a Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn’t open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren’t really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending. It was also very hard to remember where anything was, because it all seemed to move around a lot. The people in the portraits kept going to visit each other, and I was sure that the coats of armor could walk.  
  
One of the biggest annoyances was Peeves the Poltergeist. I imagine that if we were not with the prefects, who threatened to call the Bloody Baron if he so much as bothered us, he might have been a bit more difficult to deal with.  
  
Then there was Argus Filch. The prefects treated him cordially, but he was always a nasty person to deal with. He would often follow the Slytherin first years, refusing to believe that we weren’t up to something to make his life harder, and we often had to endure his unpleasant company for a while if we had the misfortune to run in to him in the corridors. His cat, Mrs. Norris, a scrawny, dust-colored creature with bulging, lamp like eye just like Filch’s, would often follow us around for even longer, I imagine waiting to see if we broke any rules.  
  
The classes themselves were intriguing, and harder than I thought they would be. Staying up till mid-night every Wednesday to study Astronomy was a pain, and Herbology was the subject I hated the most, it annoyed me that we had it three times a week. I hated doing garden work.  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts was the most surprising subject, at least for me, because Quirrell actually seemed like he was competent at his subject, instead of being the stuttering imbecile he had been in Canon. It made me wonder if Voldemort was actually on the back of his head, because I had thought that he had tried to make himself out to be a fool in canon so no one would suspect him. If Voldemort wasn’t with him, then what the hell was on the third floor corridor? Wasn’t the whole thing with the stone meant to be a trap for Voldemort? I couldn’t be sure; Bool’s memories were suspect.   
  
\--  
  
The mail arrived. Even I was shocked at the flurry of Owls when they had first delivered the mail that morning after we had arrived. Errol hadn’t brought me anything yet, which had been both relieving and alarming. So when I spotted him among the owls, I felt trepidation about what he might be delivering.  
  
The Weasley Great Gray Owl seemed to be lost and confused, but with a flash of white, I saw Harry’s Snowy Owl, Hedwig, fly up to Errol. She seemed to get his attention, and he followed Hedwig down to the Slytherin table.  
  
Needless to say, there was suddenly a large amount of overturned plates full of food.  
  
“Who’s bird is that!” exclaimed one of the Slytherin First-years, who I recognized was Theodore Nott.  
  
“I’m going to kill it!” shouted Malfoy, who was covered in gravy. He made to pick up a butter knife, and moved toward the owl, who appeared to have fallen asleep.  
  
“Calm down, Malfoy,” said Varrick, who grabbed Malfoy by his shoulder. “You’re not killing anything.”  
  
“Now,” he said as he picked up and inspected Errol “Who’s owl is this?”  
  
“Mine.” I said hesitantly, embarrassed. Malfoy sniffed.  
  
“Should have known an owl as worthless as that,” he said, pointing at Errol. “could only belong to a family as worthless as yours.”  
  
“Shut up, Malfoy,” I said in annoyance. Varrick handed Errol to me, and I final spotted the letter tied to one of his claws.  
  
My feeling of trepidation escalated. It was clearly marked Ronald Bilius Weasleyin Mums flowing script. I opened it and pulled out the letter.  
  
Dear Ron,  
  
Your father and I were surprised to hear that you had been sorted into Slytherin. Percy assures us that the members of your house are treating you well, but I have to admit that your father and I are concerned for you. I have spoken to Dumbledore, and he has assured me that if you find that you don’t fit in with your Slytherin peers, it is possible for you to be resorted.   
  
Your father has told me that, generally speaking, there hasn’t been a Weasley in Slytherin for seven generations. However, my own family, the Prewett family, was mostly sorted into Slytherin, with my brothers and I being some of the few that were sorted into Gryffindor.  
  
In other news: Aunt Muriel wants you to join her at her home for the Christmas holidays. She hasn’t told me why, but I suspect it has something to do with you being sorted into Slytherin. You are free to refuse, but I hope that you understand the importance of this request.  
  
Your father and I give you our love,  
  
Mum  
  
I read the letter three times. Relief flooded my veins. They hadn’t said that they approve, but I was glad to know that at least they supported me.  
  
Relief gave way to confusion. Why would Aunt Muriel want me to stay with her over the holidays? The thought of staying with Muriel for three straight weeks filled me with anxiety. Muriel was a nasty character. 101 years old, she thought her age entitled her to everything she wanted. She was bitter and mean, and nobody seemed to be able to please her. She loved to gossip, and spent most of her days with other old women from rich, pureblood circles.  
  
In other words, the idea of spending the holidays with her was about appealing as spending a day in a sewer tank.  
  
“Who is that from?” asked Harry, who appeared to have his own letter in his hands.  
  
“My Mum,” I said quietly. “My family has mostly been in Gryffindor for seven generations. They were letting me know they still love me even though Im Slytherin.”  
  
“Who did you get a letter from?” I asked Harry, turning my attention to him. He handed the letter to me.  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I know you get Firday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three?  
  
I want to hear all about your first week, and talk about your occlumency lessons.  
  
Send us an answer back with Hedwig.  
  
Hagrid


	22. Chapter 22

I stared at the parchment. Harry was taking Occlumency lessons with Hagrid? Since when did Hagrid know Occlumency?  
  
I decided then and there that I was going to stop assuming that I knew anything about anyone. Bools memories were suspect. I couldn’t rely on them.  
  
I handed Hagrid’s letter back to Harry, then turned my attention to Errol. The bedraggled owl who resembled a molting feather duster was still fast asleep. Aside from the fact that he was still covered in bits of food, I was not sure what to do about him.  
  
“Varrick,” I said, turning my attention to him. “I need to take care of my owl, my I be excused?”  
  
“Yes,” He said. “I recommend taking him to the groundskeeper, he’ll know what to do with him.”  
  
It was currently 8:15 in the morning and potions started at 9 o’clock sharp.  
  
“Doesn’t the groundskeeper live in a hut on the grounds?” I asked.  
  
“Yes,” said Varrick unsympathetically. “I suggest you hurry.”  
  
I blinked, staring at Varrick in surprise, before hurriedly making my way out of the Great Hall.  
  
\--  
  
10 minutes later, I was standing in front of Hagrid’s Hut. Having run most of the way there, I was red in the face, clutching a stich in my side, and gasping for breath. As it was, I stood there for a few moments, trying to get my breath back. With Errol under my left arm, I knocked on the giant door on the front of the hut. The sound of blooming barks greeted me.  
  
“ _Back_ – Fang – _back_!”  
  
The door cracked open and I could see some of Hagrid’s hairy face.  
  
“Just a mo’, _back_ – Fang – _back_!”  
  
He let me in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound.  
  
There was only one room inside. Hams and pheasants were hanging from the ceiling, a copper kettle was boiling on the open fire, and in the corner stood a massive bed with a patchwork quilt over it. Hagrid let go of Fang, who bound straight at me and tried to lick my face.  
  
“Eh, hello,” said Hagrid, looking at me with a kind expression on his face. “Don’t ‘spect I’ve met you before. Name’s Rubeus Hagrid, call me Hagrid, ev’ryone does.”  
  
“Ron Weasley,” I said, holding up my hand. He grasped it in one of his mighty paws and gave it a good shake.  
  
“So, what can I do fer yeh?” asked Hagrid. “Not many students come ter see me.”  
  
“Well, sir,” I said, pulling Errol out from under my arm. “It’s my owl, he had a crash in the Great Hall a few minutes ago. One of the Prefects recommended that I come to you.”  
  
“Ah, yer owl, eh?” Hagrid said as he lifted the owl out of my hands. Errol looked tiny in Hagrid’s hand, but he was surprisingly gentle. Hagrid inspected Errol, gently lifting his wings and examining his body.  
  
“Yer owls fine, he’s just old,” Hagrid said after a few moments. “I’ll keep an eye on him for yeh, he just need’s rest an’ water.”  
  
I sagged in relief. I didn’t want to have to write a letter to Mum explaining that Errol had been injured or had died.  
  
“Thank you,” I said greatfully. I checked my watch and groaned. It was now 8:35, I was going to be late!  
  
“Could you keep an eye on him for me?” I asked. “I have Potion’s class in 25 minutes.”  
  
“Sure thing,” said Hagrid. “Go on, I’ll keep an eye on ‘im.”  
  
“Thank you,” I said, “I’ll be back later to pick him up.”  
  
Hopefully I wouldn’t be too late to potions class.  
  
With that thought in mind, I dashed out of Hagrid’s Hut, and back up to the school.


	23. Chapter 23

> I arrived at the Potions class room to the sight of everyone else standing around the door. Checking my watch, I noticed that I had arrived with only a few seconds to spare.
> 
> I bowed over and wheezed. I had just spent the last 45 minutes running all over the place with nary a break in between. The stich in my side ached, and I fell really short of breath. Unfortunately, the door to the Potions Class room swung open, revealing the form of the Potions Master, Professor Snape.
> 
> Gazing at the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors with an expressionless look on his face, he uttered one word:
> 
> “Enter,”
> 
> Everyone made haste to follow his command, forming a line to enter the room.
> 
> The room was brightly lit, and clean. The floor was made of white tiles, the walls and ceiling were a reddish brown stone. There were two rows of tables that you might find in a chemistry classroom, complete with drawers and cabinets under them. the table-tops were of a dark, polished stone, that I suspected was granite. In front of each table were two stools made of wood. At the far end of the room was a black-board where Professor Snape stood.
> 
> “You will be working in pairs,” said Professor Snape. “Find your seats.”
> 
> We all rushed to our seats as Snape commanded while he gazed over us. When we were all seated, he walked to a table off to the side and picked up a scroll of parchment.
> 
> “I will begin by calling attendance,” Snape stated. “Bulstrode, Millicent…”
> 
> When Snape came to Harry’s name, he paused briefly, but continued on without singling Harry out. When he finished calling role-call, he the parchment down, then fixed the class with a harsh gaze.
> 
> “Potions,” he started. “is one of the most dangerous, exacting, and difficult magical arts that you will ever learn. I expect that less than half of this class will make it to the NEWT level of this class, and even fewer will attempt a Mastery in this class.”
> 
> He eyed the Gryffindors, most of whom gulped under his gaze.
> 
> “That is no excuse not to try your very best,” He continued. “So I expect you all you give your very best effort.”
> 
> His eye’s wandered over to the Slytherin’s, and came to a rest on me. I looked at his mouth, not wanting to let him read my mind.
> 
> “However,” Snape said. “If I find out that you are meddling with the potions of other students or are otherwise impeding the learning other your fellow classmates, you will leave, and never come back, am I understood?”
> 
> “Yes, Professor Snape,” the class chorused.
> 
> “Good.” Said Snape, who turned and waved his wand at the blackboard. Words started to appear on it.
> 
> “Now,” he said. “There are a few things we have to learn before we can start making potions.”
> 
> He pointed at the first item on the blackboard. I pulled out a quill, and some parchment and ink.
> 
> “First, proper safety must be observed,” said Snape. “You will learn the Bubbled Head charm, the Splash Protection charm, and the Cleaning charm.”
> 
> “Second,” He said, pointing at the second item on his list. “you must learn how to properly care for your equipment. How to both use and clean it.”
> 
> “Finally, you must learn how to properly prepare your ingredients, so that your potions do not blow up in your face.”
> 
> Turning to look at his class, he said:
> 
> “I don’t expect that you will start brewing potions until nearer to the end of term.”
> 
> He paused.
> 
> “If I find out that you have attempted to brew a potion before you have learnt the three things I have outlined here on the blackboard,” He said in a quiet whisper that none the less managed to carry throughout the class.” I will personally make sure that you are expelled from Hogwarts. Do you understand?”
> 
> “Yes, Professor Snape.” The class chorused.
> 
> \--
> 
> Professor Snape spent the rest of the class teaching the theory behind the Bubble Head charm. He answered any questions that the class had, and took the time to make sure that everyone understood what he was teaching. However, as time passed in class, I noticed that he ignored Harry, who had taken a seat next to me. I told Harry to asked me his questions, and then I would attempt to ask the question, but he ignored me too.
> 
> I suppose he still had a grudge against Harry’s father, and by extension Harry himself, for all the improvements Snape had to his personality.
> 
> _Well_ , I thought _, at least he’s not just writing down instructions on the blackboard and expects us to understand what he’s talking about right off the bat._
> 
>  


	24. Chapter 24

Technically, after lunch we had about 2 and a half hours before Harry was to be at Hagrid’s. Harry invited me to come with him and I accepted. We made arrangements to be in the Entrance Hall at 2:30 o’clock, then we would go down to Hagrid’s. In the meantime, Harry had some homework he needed to catch up on, and I had another errand I wanted to do.  
  
For the past week, the sixth year Prefects had watched the first years like hawks. They guided us to and from class when they could, kept a close eye on us during meal times, and after dinner would take us to the library to do homework, where we would stay until either all our homework was done, or the Library would close, which was at 9 o’clock at night. They would then lead us back to the Slytherin Common room, where they would command us to go and get ready for bed. If any of us came out of the dorm, they would usher us back to it.  
  
When it came to homework, the prefects would make sure we all got our homework done on time, and would take pains to help anyone who was falling behind. Needless to say, Crabbe and Goyle got a lot of their attention.  
  
While all of this was fine and dandy, it was also preventing me from moving forward with my own goals. Because of their constant attention, I couldn’t get away. I had many things I wanted to do, but I couldn’t do it while the prefects were watching.  
  
There was a silver lining, however. When I took the time to ask Varrick some questions about it, I learned some interesting and useful information. Apparently, Snape was the reason why the prefects were going through such trouble to help and keep an eye on the first years.  
  
First, Professor Snape wanted to instill good habits in his students by having the Prefects make the first years do their homework as soon as they got it. Additionally, if anyone had problems with writing essay’s or doing research, the Prefects were required to help them by teaching them how to research or do essay’s.  
  
Second, Professor Snape hoped to instill a heathy respect for authority in the first years Slytherins, a house that traditionally understood that you only broke a rule if you got caught. By having the first years answer so directly to the prefects, the idea was that first years would come to understand that you could trust authority figures to help you if you needed it. Additionally, the prefects were supposed to learn to wield authority through a traditional carrot and stick method, the carrot being help with homework and learning how to do homework, and the stick being the threat of detentions if you broke the rules or annoyed the prefect too much.  
  
Finally, Professor Snape thought that the experience would teach the prefects responsibility. The idea was that because the prefect’s actions was under the scrutiny of Snape himself, he would be able to correct any abuses of power, and in doing so, would teach the prefects how to be responsible with the power they had.  
  
It had seemed like an ingenious system to me, and I had wondered aloud why the other houses didn’t have a similar system. Varrick had replied that the system had worked so well that the other heads of houses had taken notice, and so had instituted similar systems in their houses.  
  
Varrick informed me that he and Ceilla would carry on these duties until November, which was when the Prefect election cycle would start. So in other words, two months. However, the prefects had Friday afternoons and weekends off, so the first years would be free to do whatever they wanted then, so long as they turned up for dinner on time.  
  
While it was inconvenient to have the prefects keep a watchful eye on me during the week, Friday afternoon and the weekends was a large block of time in which no classes took place, leaving me ample time in which to start my plans.  
  
\--  
  
After walking down a flight of stone steps I came upon a broad stone corridor, brightly lit with torches, and decorated with cheerful paintings that were mainly of food. I walked down to a painting of a large fruit bowl, and reached up to tickle the huge green pear. It began to squirm, chuckling, and suddenly turned into a large green door handle. I reached up and pulled it, swinging the door open.  
  
I was greeted by the sight of an enormous, high-ceilinged room, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end. A herd of house-elfs came toward me. I noticed that they were all wearing tea towels stamped with the Hogwarts crest, in a manner that reminded me of toga’s. They all crowded around me with excitable expressions on their faces.  
  
“Hello, sir,” said a little elf with a feminine voice. “What can Mixy do for sir?”  
  
“Hello, Mixy,” I said to the elf in a kind voice. “Im Ron Weasley and I was just curious about the famed Hogwarts Kitchens. My brothers told me about it, and I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.”  
  
Mixy smiled up at me, and held up one of her hands. I grabbed it, and she led me to an area at the far side of the room, where I saw a set of tables separate from the four main tables.  
  
“What would Ron Weasley sir like to eat?” asked Mixy after I sat down at one of the tables.  
  
“Oh… surprise me!” I said, looking at the house elfs that were crowding around my seat. “I sure whatever you prepare will be exquisite, as usual.”  
  
I soon regretted those words as the house elfs took that as an excuse to pile the table in front of me with all sorts of assorted dishes of food. I probably couldn’t eat that much in my entire life. I spent the next half hour tasting each dish, making sure to ask which elf prepared it and complementing their fine culinary skills. The elfs were so excited that they kept up a moving train of food in front of me. I was so preoccupied with the food that I didn’t notice that someone had come in through the kitchen door.  
  
“Well,” came the sound of Fred’s voice. “when you said you wanted to know where the Kitchens were…”  
  
“We didn’t realize you wanted to be served hand and foot by the house elfs,” teased George.  
  
I swiveled my head to look at them, surprised. They were both looking at me amused smirks on their faces.  
  
“Fred? George?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“Same thing as you, ickle Ronniekins -” started Fred.  
  
“The house elfs sure do love when we come to eat some of their special treats,” continued George.  
  
“Would Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley like anything to eat, sirs?” asked Mixy, who appeared to be standing in front of them.  
  
“Sure, I’ll have whatever Ron’s having,” said Fred, who sat down in front of me.  
  
“Me too,” said George, who did the same.  
  
The crowd of excitable house elfs soon brought fresh food for Fred and George.  
  
“So, how’s life in Slytherin treating you?” asked George.  
  
“It doesn’t bother you that I’m in Slytherin?” I asked.  
  
“Naaaa,” said Fred. “You’re our little brother, Slytherin or not.”  
  
“Yeah, we’re not gonna give up on you just cause you’re Slytherin,” said George.  
  
“Well, that is… relieving to know,” I said. “as for how life’s treating me, there’s a git called Malfoy who likes to give me a hard time, but other than that, I think I’m doing fine.”  
  
“Just say the word,” said Fred.  
  
“And we will prank him for you,” said George.  
  
They both gained a conspiring look on their faces. I had to put a stop to that fast.  
  
“No,” I said. “You leave my classmate’s alone. Pranking them is the first step toward making my life unbearably difficult in Slytherin. Everyone will look to me to stop you.”  
  
“All right, keep your pants on, it’s just an idea,” said George, who had an annoyed look on his face.  
  
“Right little ray of sunshine you are,” grumbled Fred.  
  
“Well, Im sorry if I’ve ruined your fun,” I relied. “but things are different in Slytherin. The prefects have a lot more power, and as I have said, they have the power to make my life unbearably difficult.”  
  
“How, exactly?” asked George.  
  
“Yeah, all the prefects can do in our house is hand out detentions,” said Fred  
  
“It’s complicated,” I replied. “And I don’t really understand all of it myself. Sorry.”  
  
“Ok, whatever floats you boat,” said Fred.  
  
“Speaking of which, there’s something we want to warn you about,” said George.  
  
“Or rather, some _one_ ,” said Fred.  
  
“There’s this prefect in Slytherin who’s a real nasty character,” continued George.  
  
“Who?” I asked. The twins looked at each other.  
  
“Her name’s Mary Shafiq,” sneered Fred “Her family’s one of the sacred twenty-eight.”  
  
“More like putrid twenty-eight if you ask me,” said George in disgust.  
  
“She’s had it out for us ever since first year,” said Fred. “we have no idea why, never did anything to her.”  
  
“Percy told us she was really nasty to him too,” said George. “We don’t know if she has her sights on you too, but it’s best to be careful.”  
  
“What did she do to you?” I asked, bewildered.  
  
“Oh, she’d follow us around,” said George. “Give us detention if we so much as set a toe out of line.”  
  
“She was really dogged about it too,” said Fred. “Never gave us so much as an inch.”  
  
“And you guys _never_ did anything to piss her off?” I asked, incredulous.  
  
“Never!” said Fred earnestly. “We really have no idea why she hates us so much.”  
  
“Hmm,” I said thoughtfully. “Very well, I appreciate the warning.”  
  
For the next several minutes, we talked about inane things while the twins stated eating their meal. Apparently, we were only a week in and Fred and George had already gotten detention, something about stealing toilet seats from various loo’s. they had got caught by Filch, who gave them a months’ worth. It was when the twins were talking about how glad they were to be back in their Gryffindor dorm beds that an idea occurred to me.  
  
“Say, why don’t we go up to the Gryffindor common room and play a game of exploding snap?” I asked?  
  
The twins stared at me.  
  
“Um,” said Fred. “Im not sure Slytherin’s are welcome in the Gryffindor common room.”  
  
“Yeah,” said George. “plus, I’m not even sure that members of other houses are allowed in the common room.”  
  
“They are,” I said “There is nothing against it in the rules. Plus, I come from a family of Gryffindors, Im practically part Gryffindor myself.”  
  
“Ok, if you’re sure,” said Fred.  
  
“But don’t blame us if you get a lot of stares,” said George.  
  
A few minutes later, we were walking out of the kitchens. I took the time to thank the house elfs for their hospitality, to which they all generously bowed.


	25. Chapter 25

“So, Hagrid is teaching you occlumency?” I asked as I led Harry down the path.  
  
We had met in the entrance hall at the specified time, and instead of racing to the Hagrid’s hut like I did this morning, Harry and I walked towards it at a more sedate pace, leaving me more time to admire the view. Really, from the gates of Hogwarts, the view made Hagrid’s wooden hut, smoke curling up from its chimney, look tiny against the backdrop of the forbidden forest, which itself nestled against the distant rocky mountains. With the sun shining against the mountains, everything looked beautiful.  
  
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Dumbledore said I had to learn it.”  
  
“Did he say why?” I asked.  
  
Harry was silent.  
  
I kept walking for a few moments before I realized that Harry had stopped. I turned around.  
  
“Ron,” said Harry “Can I ask you a question?”  
  
“Uh, sure?” I said, a little weirded out by the strange expression on his face.  
  
“Why are you here?”  
  
I blinked.  
  
“What do you mean, why am I here?” I asked, bewildered. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”  
  
Harry suddenly looked ashamed.  
  
“What?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.  
  
“it’s just, it’s something Dumbledore said,” said Harry helplessly.  
  
“What did he say?” my eyes narrowed.  
  
“He said… he said something about being wary of my housemates,” said Harry, “he said they might try to ‘take advantage of me’ or something like that.”  
  
I suddenly felt incredibly betrayed, then incredibly angry.  
  
“HE WHAT!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Harry flinched as if struck. The reaction cooled some of my anger, but not all of it.  
  
“Im sorry,” said Harry pitifully. I sighed.  
  
“Oh, shut up,” I said, rubbing my brow and trying to get my anger under control. I then looked up at Harry. He was staring at me again.  
  
“Sorry, Harry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. Sometimes my temper flares up when I get really angry.”  
  
“You mean you’re not mad at me?” asked Harry.  
  
“No,” I said, giving Harry a rueful smile. “Grudgingly, I would say what Dumbledore told you would be perfectly good advice, and I will be honest and say that your fame was somewhat alluring. But I care more about you as a friend than as someone famous I know. If you stopped being famous this very hour, I wouldn’t care one bit.”  
  
Harry looked disbelieving.  
  
“Then why were you so angry?” He asked.  
  
“I guess it hit kind of close to home,” I sighed. “I…”  
  
I suddenly stopped talking, eye’s wide. I had just come close, too close, to revealing information about my past life.  
  
“What?” asked Harry.  
  
“Nothing,” I said evasively. “I’ll talk to you about it later.”  
  
Harry frowned.  
  
“You always say that,” he complained.  
  
It was true. Over the past week I had come dangerously close to letting slip details about my past life. Fortunately, I was able to catch most of them before they passed my lips, but it often made people wonder what the hell I was talking about, so I would typically evade by telling them I would explain later, or to mind their own damn business.  
  
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just a long story, I promise I will tell you about it later.”  
  
More like make up a lie to tell him later.  
  
“I’ll hold you to that,” said Harry, who was still frowning.  
  
We started up our journey to Hagrid’s hut again.  
  
“So, are we still friends?” I asked, trying to be inconspicuous.  
  
Harry was silent for a long moment.  
  
“Yeah, we’re still friends,” he said.  
  
We looked at each other, and smiled.


End file.
